Freedom From Fear
by Kung-fu Blaziken
Summary: Freedom. Lena had wanted it for so very long. But even though the connection with Magica is broken, she wonders if she is truly free. Thankfully, she's got a better family out of the deal.
1. Break

_So when I was a kid, one of my favorite shows was Ducktales (woo-hoo!). I loved the character of Scrooge McDuck, and I loved the crazy adventures the family went on. And like many people, I can safely say that the reboot upholds the tradition of excellent characters, stories, and animation that the original had._

 _And one of the stories that caught my attention was the ongoing arc of Lena and Magica De Spell. As the season went on and we saw more of the situation, I (like many) wanted to see Lena finally break the chains that her evil aunt had put on her and gain her place in the loving family she deserved._

 _I was inspired to finally put my thoughts down by the last few episodes of the season. The ending of 'The Other Bin of Scrooge McDuck!' had me horrified, and the events of the season finale left me exhilarated from the awesome episode, glad that Magica got what was coming to her, and conflicted concerning the revelations and fate of Lena. I do hope that they resolve some lingering threads in the second season. They're already angling to do something with Della given that last-second teaser, but considering everything, Lena needs some love too._

 _But by the time of the finale, I had already written nearly twenty pages of notes for this story (which I will be upfront and say that Lena's backstory here is NOT the same as canon), and still with a creative spark, I began to write._

 _Because no matter what you thought of the episodes in question, I think we can all agree on something: hashtag-Lena-Deserves-Better_

 _(did I do that right, I'm not sure I did that right)_

 _Also, that IS hair ducks have on their heads in addition to feathers because shut up._

 _Oh, one more thing. Flames will also be fed to Tempest the Gyarados. Let's exercise some civility. Constructive criticism is okay, insults are not._

 _And of course, I don't own_ _Ducktales. It is owned by the all-powerful Walt Disney Corporation. Also, I must give respect where it is due to Carl Barks (without whom we wouldn't have these characters), and Matt Youngberg and Francisco Angones (without whom we wouldn't have this awesome show)._

* * *

 **Freedom from Fear**

Chapter 1

Break

Lena remembered once reading a story of a man possessed by a demon. How he felt his body moving beyond his control, how he struggled and strained against what was going on. A metaphor that kept coming up was being trapped in a crystal prison, banging on the walls and watching helplessly as the demon made a mockery of his life.

She wanted to laugh. The truth was far worse than fiction.

Ever since Magica De Spell had gained enough power to fully take over Lena's body, the witch had not given her even a second of freedom, dominating their now-shared body. She knew what it was. After several times defying Magica ( _not Aunt Magica, never again, not after this_ ), the Sorceress of the Shadows had decided that her _dear niece's_ loyalties were in question.

And what's that old adage? If you want something done right, do it yourself.

Surprisingly, Magica had decided not to act immediately. The reasoning she had given had been that Scrooge would be holding the Number One Dime more tightly after briefly relinquishing it, and getting it from him would be difficult.

" _McDuck is old, but far from weak. And this body is not strong enough to go toe-to-toe with a seasoned fighter,"_ she had said.

So Magica had given it a few days, making preparations for her plan. And all the while, she remained in control of Lena's body.

It was a nightmare. Magica had been without a proper body for so long that she barely did basic maintenance now. Not much food was consumed, only enough to keep going. Proper grooming was ignored in favor of the simplest of washes. And sleep? Even when she'd had a body, Magica barely slept. But while Magica might not need it, Lena felt the strain.

That was the worst part. Magica either didn't feel it or didn't care, but Lena did. Her body was screaming at her by this point, starved and exhausted, but she could do nothing. Her essence was overwhelmed, crushed beneath Magica's.

And Magica was in no hurry to yield control. Lena was stuck like this, and there was no end in sight.

All she could do was silently scream in the prison of her own body.

 **oOo**

Webby bounced down the stairs, a smile on her face and a hum on her beak, eager to start the day.

Life was good. She had good friends, practically family, the house she lived in was more alive than it had been in years, and there was an amazing duck in her life that felt like the big sister she always wanted.

It was jarring, sometimes, how much her life had changed in such a short time. But she wouldn't trade it for the world. Scrooge was insisting she call him Uncle. Her granny seemed a bit brighter with all the excitement in the house. Huey, Dewey, and Louie were amazing to hang out with. And Lena…she was just the most awesome friend.

After a quick breakfast, she saw her grandmother motion her over.

"What's up, Granny?"

"Nothing dear, I was just wondering something. You've invited your friend Lena over quite a bit recently."

"Yeah," Webby replied, growing a little nervous, "It's just that she never talks about her family and when she does she never says much. Maybe I'm wrong, but I don't think she likes her house very much. So if I've been inviting her over a lot-"

"Ah, you've got a good heart, lass," came Scrooge's voice.

Webby turned to see the elderly duck walking toward them.

"If you think it's better for her to spend time here, we'll respect your decision."

"All the same," said Mrs. Beakley, "I've had similar suspicions, and I'd like to talk with Lena about it sometime in the near future. Keep that fact between us if you can, dear, I don't want to spook her if it turns out to be something bad."

"And if it is?" Webby asked, worry creeping into her voice.

"We'll be crossing that bridge if we come to it," Scrooge said, "Why don't you bring her over for dinner tonight. She can sleep over and we can talk in the morning. If we're off base, we're off base, no harm done."

"Okay," Webby replied, and she raced off.

She didn't see the looks the adults exchanged.

"I hope we're ready," Mrs. Beakley whispered.

"We will be, Bentina," Scrooge whispered back, "We will be…"

 **oOo**

Webby arrived at the old amphitheater where Lena often hung out. As she looked around for her friend, she shook off the suspicions of exactly why she was often here.

"You're being paranoid, Webby," she muttered to herself, "Get it together."

As she called for Lena, the girl in question snuck out of the shadows behind her. A vile grin was on her face, but she wiped it away and took a deep breath.

Webby whirled around, shouting "Boo!"

Lena stumbled back, the deep breath leaving in a gasp.

"Got to get up earlier than that, Lena!"

"Shows what I know, trying to sneak up on you," Lena laughed.

Webby took Lena in and frowned.

"Hey, you okay? You don't look so good."

Lena's feathers seemed frazzled. There were bags under her eyes, and pieces of her hair stuck out at odd angles.

Lena waved the question off, simply stating "I haven't been sleeping well is all. Still wigging a little over the nightmare dreamcatcher thing."

"What was it, anyway? You never said."

"Better you don't know."

Webby gave her a look, but shrugged it off.

"So, you up for another sleepover tonight?"

"With you? Always."

If Webby had been paying attention, she might have noticed that Lena had not addressed her by name, or by the common nickname of 'Pink'. But excitement had taken hold of the young duck.

"Great! I had this idea I wanted to run by you, and Uncle Scrooge is talking about an Incan expedition that sounds really exciting! Maybe we can convince everyone to let you come along, wouldn't that be fun?"

As Webby continued to babble, Lena smiled. Or rather, Magica smiled. She chuckled and mused internally.

' _She's a spirited little thing…too bad she'll likely end up dead when this is over.'_

Ignoring the screams of horror and the cries of "Not her!" from her niece, Magica checked her pocket. The vial was still there. It had taken time, and she would rather have had access to a proper magical laboratory, but Magica had whipped up a potion that vaporized easily into a paralytic gas. She'd wait until everyone was together, and then unleash it. With Scrooge helpless, she'd take the dime and use it, finally recovering the magic that had been stolen from her all those years ago.

Slitting his throat would be an excellent way to celebrate her big comeback.

She had thought about waiting until the coming lunar eclipse was near its zenith to do this, but had decided not to blow her chance if something went wrong.

Magica followed Webby, nodding at the appropriate moments. The poor thing had no idea what she was inviting into her home.

 **oOo**

Magica suppressed her glee. This was it. She could see Scrooge beyond the threshold. Another few steps, and she'd be able to unleash the gas and achieve her victory.

As she stepped into the manor, she idly wondered why Beakley was there, when suddenly she felt a great pain.

Lena doubled over, groaning in pain.

"What the-"

"Confused?" Scrooge spoke up, his voice as hard as a diamond, "I have special detectors in the Other Bin that sense when someone magical accesses it. With all the power in that place, I'd be a fool not to have them. Granted, I didn't check it until after I'd gotten my dime back. That's on me. But you two were the only ones down there, and I already know Webby's clean. So…who are you really, and what do you want?"

"How," came the reply from a gritted beak.

"I don't like magic, but I don't mind a few defensive tricks."

Lena grunted and clutched herself.

"Uncle Scrooge, you're hurting her!" Webby cried.

"Hardly," Beakley replied, "The field we set up around this part of the house is a powerful magic dampener. Unless you're made of such energies, like Duckworth for instance, there's no way it would be pain-"

Lena's scream cut her off. The teenage duck collapsed to the ground, trashing wildly.

"What the blazes?" Scrooge gasped, "It's never done that before!"

Lena's screams were loud enough to wake the dead. They echoed through the mansion, attracting the attention of the triplets and Donald, who came running.

"What's going on?" Donald demanded.

"Oh God, it's Lena!" Louie shouted.

"It's like she's having a seizure!" Huey cried.

Donald thrust his arms out, keeping his nephews back and away from the writhing limbs. Webby just screamed for her friend, fighting against her grandmother's hold.

Lena turned her gaze to Scrooge, who gasped a bit at the pure black eyes she now possessed.

"Damn you, McDuck! Damn you!"

A shadowy mass ripped itself from Lena's body, a sound like a banshee's cry echoing from it. It whipped about, breaking open a window before darting off into the forest around the mansion.

Lena lay there, gasping for breath. It would only be later that she remembered the yelling going on around her. Scrooge's demands for an explanation, Donald's unintelligible yells, the triplets talking over each other, and Webby's tearful cries, the younger girl having finally broken free of her grandmother's grip and rushed to Lena's side.

At the moment though, as adrenaline and pain faded and exhaustion from her near-week-long ordeal set in, Lena realized two things.

One, she could move her limbs again under her own volition.

Two, the ever-present chill in the back of her mind, the connection she had to Magica, the source of constant fear and pain for as long as she could remember… _it was gone_.

"Could a ghost get past the field?"

Lena had only a vague feeling of her own speech, but it was her voice being forced past her dry beak.

"What?" Webby asked.

"Could a ghost, a living shadow, or a demon get past the field? Could it get in here?"

"What are you blathering abou-"

"Could it come back?" Lena suddenly shouted, forcing her upper body to rise and staring at Scrooge with wild eyes, cutting the old duck off mid-sentence, "That thing that left, could it come back? Could it get in here?"

Scrooge almost took a step back. He'd seen eyes like that before. They always belonged to those who had seen too much, who had walked through Hell. Those eyes were not to be taken lightly.

"Not immediately, no," Scrooge slowly said, "Being in the field did a royal number on it, as far as I could tell. I'd have to increase the power to keep it out, but that's a simple matter."

Lena fell back to the floor, her flash of energy spent. And then she began to laugh.

It was long and loud and maddening. It bubbled up from her throat like water and steam from a geyser. She laughed and laughed and laughed.

Until she started crying. Fat tears poured down her face, her laugher transitioning into heart-wrenching sobs.

The laughter and the crying mixed together, Lena swinging between the two moods like a metronome. And interspersed in it all were exclamations that gripped the adults' hearts with icy fingers.

"She can't get me…she can't get to me…I'm free of her, free! No one has to get hurt, no one has to die! No more plots, no more curses, no more control! I can't feel her anymore, she's gone! I'm free! _Magica De Spell is gone!_ "

Scrooge dropped his cane, a look on his face like he'd been hit in the chest with a sledgehammer.

"What was that name?" he all but whispered.

But Lena would only keep laughing and crying and screaming of her freedom before eventually tapering off and falling into an exhausted slumber.

 **oOo**

Lena felt like she was on a cloud. There was a softness surrounding her, like nothing she'd ever felt.

Bit by bit, she slowly woke up. She still felt so tired. In the back of her mind, a voice told her that was what happened when one went without sleep for a week.

She forced open her eyes and took in her surroundings.

The room was elegantly appointed. The bed was a large, four-poster affair with fine sheets and a far better mattress than the old one she owned.

Twisting a bit in the bed, she realized that she was in a nightgown. Her whole body felt fresh, like she'd been cleaned while she was out.

She turned her head, and came the rest of the way awake in an instant. Webby was sitting in a chair next to the bed, watching over her.

Lena opened her mouth to speak, but started coughing.

"No, Lena, it's okay. Here, drink this."

A glass was pressed to her beak. Lena raised her hand and helped. She drank down half the glass before coming up for air, handing it back to Webby, who put it on the bedside table.

"You're okay, Lena. You're safe."

"What happened?"

"You got exorcised the hard way."

It all came back to her then. Lena curled in on herself, shame etched on her face. Webby continued to speak.

"Uncle Scrooge…he told us about Magica, his history with her…Lena, I have to know. Was it all a lie? Were you just using us to get at the dime? Was our friendship real?"

Lena's heart broke.

"Don't think like that!" she shouted, "Don't ever think that! Of course you matter! You're the only bright point that I've had in my life in a long time. You're my friend, Webby. Whatever else, you can believe that."

Lena took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Her heart felt like it might explode out of her chest. Her hands shook slightly, and she held them tightly together in her lap.

"Magica…she bound us together a long time ago, using the connection of shared blood. She's my aunt. Technically."

The bitterness in Lena's tone caught Webby's attention, but she decided not to press.

"She lived in my shadow. From there, she taught me magic and used me as her agent in the world. But whatever she wanted, she got. I couldn't get away from her, we were bound together in a way I couldn't break myself. And the link gave her limited control over me. If I pushed too far, she'd retaliate. I try to walk away, she'd forcibly turn be back around. It was like there were chains holding me down until I agreed to do what she wanted. My reward for helping her achieve her goal was my freedom. I help her, I get my life without her shadow over me. I disobey…"

Lena trailed off. Webby cursed her vivid imagination.

"So she's…done that before? Using you like a meat puppet?"

"No, that's new, at least to that extent. There's going to be a lunar eclipse soon. The closer it gets, the stronger her magic becomes. She's still a ghostly figure, a living shadow, but it was only the new strength that let her take full control. Usually it was…different things…"

"Things like…"

Lena hunched down, her shoulders touching her ears. Realizing the older girl was shutting down, Webby went into damage control.

"Never mind, forget I asked!"

Lena relaxed a little, but maintained a certain stiffness. Recognizing that she wouldn't be getting much more out of her, Webby got up.

"I'm going to go fetch you some soup. You're probably starving."

"Magica didn't exactly stop for lunch breaks while plotting in my body," Lena groused.

"I'll make it a large bowl, then."

As Webby reached the door, she heard Lena speak up again.

"Webby…I'm sorry…"

Webby gripped the doorknob tightly.

"Yeah…I know…"

She left without another word. She didn't look back.

If she had, she would have seen the tears running down Lena's face.

"I'm so sorry…"

 **oOo**

As Webby helped her grandmother prepare a dinner tray and relate the learned information to her and Scrooge, her mind spun. Like it or not, Lena's motivation for befriending her had been as part of a long con to get at Scrooge and his Number One Dime.

But Webby had also seen sides of Lena that were so genuine. The way she talked about her favorite art and music, the laughs they shared, the little adventures they had. They were British together, they found Terra-Firmians together, they'd fought a sword horse and a money shark and she had such a warm smile and it had to have been real, _it had to have been real._

Webby tried to calm herself. Lena was her friend, she knew it, deep down she did. So she'd play her part. She'd be Lena's friend. Because all the suspicions she and Granny had were true, but so much worse, and Lena needed a friend more than anything.

"This is all just such a mess," Webby said as she finished her explanations.

"Aye, that it is," Scrooge said, leaning heavily on his cane and looking every year his age, "I'll be double-checking with a few experts, but I believe the protections on the mansion will hold for now. Once this eclipse passes, Magica's power should wane, and we won't have to be on as strong a guard. Until then, no one leaves the mansion without an escort, and Lena remains confined to the grounds."

"Wait, what? That's not fair!" Webby shouted, "She's not some criminal, we can't treat her like a prisoner! She's the victim here!"

"She's a target, Webby! It's for her own protection. A buddy system will help the rest of us should Magica manage a possession, but I doubt she'll be able to. Lena, however, carries the same blood. It would be far easier for that witch to snatch her up again. When the eclipse passes, we'll renegotiate."

Webby calmed a bit, but still looked resentful. Scrooge put a hand on her shoulder.

"Webby, I swear to you, we're not leaving her in the lurch. We'll be doing whatever we can to help her. That's a promise."

 **oOo**

Mrs. Beakley ended up taking the tray up to Lena, citing that she wanted to speak with her anyway.

After giving Lena the soup and waiting a bit, Bentina told her about Scrooge's decisions.

Lena seemed to slump at the news of her confinement, but she covered it up quickly.

"Well, I waiting this long for freedom, what's a little longer in the grand scheme, right?"

Mrs. Beakley met her gaze with a piercing look.

"I can tell you're not overly happy about this. There is no need to cover your feelings."

Lena sighed but said no more. She perked a bit when Bentina put her hand on her shoulder.

"Lena, what happened wasn't your fault. None of it was. It's all on Magica. She's a monster for treating you the way she did. If you ever want to talk, or you just need a shoulder to cry on, we'll be here for you."

Lena looked up at her a spark of hope in her eyes.

"Now I want you to clean your plate, young lady. I picked you up far too easily in my opinion. We need to put some meat on those bones."

Lena nodded and turned back to her soup, eating it slowly. Mrs. Beakley turned to go when Lena spoke up again.

"I had an amulet on me. Amethyst with a shiny, kind-of-gold-but-not-quite casing?"

"Oh yes, it fell out while I was undressing you for a quick bath. I set it aside while I got your clothes washed."

"Do us all a favor, smash it to pieces and melt it down. It's a mystical focus. Magica gave it to me, so I don't really trust it anymore."

Beakley took in the angry look on Lena's face before giving her a small grin.

"Tell you what: when you're feeling up to it, you can borrow a sledgehammer and help."

"Sounds like a fun time. And be careful with that vial, it makes a paralytic gas."

"I thought as much. I'm familiar with similar concoctions. I'll dispose of it safely. Eat and rest. You've been through quite an ordeal."

"Wait, how is a housekeeper familiar with paralytic gasses?"

"Oh simple, I'm a retired spy."

Mrs. Beakley ducked out the door, chuckling to herself. Lena just stared at the door with her jaw dropped.

"That explains so much about Webby," she finally said.

 **oOo**

Lena napped lightly for most of the day, still very weak from the strain Magica put on her body.

At one point, the boys showed up, delivering Lena's freshly-laundered clothes and a few books to pass the time.

"We did our best to not let Huey run wild and bring you a bunch of nerd books," Dewey said.

"Oh? And what was that romance novel I saw you trying to sneak into the stack?" Huey shot back.

"Girls like that stuff right?"

"I don't really think someone who effects a punk-goth look would particularly like a piece of cowboy romance trash," Louie said with a smirk, giving Lena a playful elbow.

"Sounds ghastly," Lena deadpanned.

"It's okay, bro. Not everyone can be a ladies duck."

"What date have you ever been on?" Dewey asked, eyebrow raised.

"None that I'd tell you!"

"Is this really the time for this conversation?" Huey asked.

As the triplets descended into an argument, Lena saw it for what it really was. They were trying to get a laugh out of her, cheer her up a little.

She gave off a soft giggle as she got their attention back.

"You guys are a riot, but I'm afraid I'm not up for visitors right now."

The boys dropped the pretense of fighting and nodded.

"It's okay, you rest," Huey said, "See you at breakfast tomorrow?"

"Probably."

As the triplets filed out, Lena slumped a little. They had done their best, but her dour mood still hung over her.

' _Still_ ,' she thought as she chose a collection of sci-fi stories from the stack, ' _I should probably thank them later. I was getting bored_.'

She ended up reading for the rest of the day. At one point, Webby slipped in, grabbed her own book, and sat down beside her to read. Lena had looked over at her, but Webby just gave her a small smile. They lapsed into a companionable silence.

Then, Lena noticed that the sun was setting. The shadows in the room were lengthening. For a brief moment, she thought she saw a pair of hellish red eyes in the deepest shadow.

With a cry of fear, Lena whipped her hand to the lamp and turned it on, banishing the darker shadows from the room.

"Lena?" Webby asked, tossing her book to the side, "Hey, what's wrong?"

But Lena would only stare at the place the shadow was, breathing heavily and shuddering.

Webby slowly wrapped her arms around Lena, who just as slowly began to relax into her younger friend's embrace.

"She's in my head. I saw her eyes. I know she wasn't here, but she was…"

"You're seeing things," Webby said softly, "She's not here, she can't get you. I won't let her get you. Do you want me to stay?"

Lena nodded, not trusting her voice.

They ended up leaving the light on, snuggling together beneath the covers. Webby's presence helped, but Lena still didn't get much sleep that night.


	2. Settling In

_So a word before we continue. It's about accents. I don't know about you, but I find it a little hard to write accents. Thus, you won't see too many signs in the text itself of Scrooge's accent. Maybe a few pieces here or there, but not a lot. You all will likely be adding it in your head anyway, but it's a lot more work than it seems to do it, especially for a main character. Donald's quacking accent is pretty similar in that regard, but mostly because it's IMPOSSIBLE to evoke that voice in text. See also, any jokes about him being unintelligible. Kinda wrecked when you the audience CAN actually understand him._

 _Bottom line, I want to focus more on storycraft than I do trying to figure out how 'rubber baby buggy bumpers' sounds in a Scottish accent. Use your own imaginations for Scrooge and Donald's voices._

 _And to be fair, there's precedent for that. Just look at the Duck comics. Scrooge's lines rarely evoked a Scottish accent, it was really just implied._

* * *

 **Freedom from Fear**

Chapter 2

Settling In

The next morning, Webby showed Lena the nearest bathroom, then went off to prepare for the day herself.

Lena took a brief shower, relishing the hot water. She scrubbed hard, still feeling unclean from Magica's intrusion, but she stopped after accidently pulling out a few feathers.

After drying off, she took a long look in the mirror. She looked better, but there were still bags under her eyes and those same eyes still bore a haunted look. She wondered when those would go away.

Dressing quickly, she went downstairs to find that everyone else had beaten her to the table, even Webby. The second the younger girl saw Lena, she pulled her into the seat beside her and piled pancakes on her plate. The look on Webby's face told her that she expected Lena to finish all of them.

Lena looked around the table. There were a few good mornings aimed her way, which she softly responded to, but for the most part, it looked business as usual. Donald was muttering over the paper, Scrooge was enjoying his morning tea, the boys were chatting about something, and even Beakley was tucking in to some pancakes. It all seemed so…domestic…

"Maple or blueberry?"

Lena started and turned. At her other side was Dewey, looking at her questioningly.

"What?"

"Syrup, for your pancakes. Maple or blueberry?"

"I…I don't think I've ever had blueberry before…"

Dewey handed her a bottle of a dark blue liquid.

"Trust me, you'll love it."

"Don't mind him," Louie spoke up, "Ever since he discovered blueberry syrup, he's been obsessed."

Dewey coughed. It sounded a lot like 'ottomans'.

"Why you-"

"Dewey, Louie, don't start," Donald said from further down, not even looking up from his paper, as if this were a common occurrence.

Lena dug into her pancakes. It felt so surreal. It was like nothing had changed. It was just a typical morning, like any other. She'd had breakfast at McDuck Manor before, following the sleepovers with Webby. But considering the events of yesterday, she expected some form of suspicion or even hostility. She'd been harboring Scrooge McDuck's bitterest enemy, and yet the trillionaire hadn't given her a single side-eye. He'd just greeted her like usual and gone back to his breakfast.

"Oh boys, little news," Scrooge said, "I'm rescheduling our trip to the Andes. We're going to be a bit busy."

Busy with her, busy with Magica. Lena knew this, excepted moans of discontent, maybe even a glower since she was ultimately at fault for a canceled adventure. But there was nothing from the triplets about this, just nods of understanding.

"Wish I could reschedule the Scotland trip, but that's a mite time-sensitive," Scrooge continued.

"Count me out of that one," Donald said, "I know where you're going and I have no desire to witness _that_ again."

"Not brave enough for the storm, Donald?" Mrs. Beakley asked teasingly.

"There's braving the storm and there's sailing a dingy right into a hurricane. No thanks. You want a shot, go ahead Secret Agent Granny."

Lena tore her attention away from Donald and Beakley's playful jibes and toward the triplets and Webby, who were speculating on the Scotland trip.

"It's probably got something to do with Celtic folklore," Huey said, "I hope there aren't any kelpies this time."

"Kelpies?" Lena asked.

"Long story," Webby said, "But I think it has to do with an old Clan McDuck thing."

"You hope," Louie said, "You've got an obsession, you know that right?"

"She did ask us our blood types when we met," Dewey deadpanned, "I actually overheard something about a Templar treasure…Lena, your thoughts?"

"I…er, I don't really have an opinion?"

The subject swiftly changed. The boys seemed to bounce between different conversations. Webby fed her lines concerning context, but it was clear that much of what was going on was something only the triplets could interpret.

Finally, something snapped.

Lena slammed her hand on the table, catching everyone's attention.

"How can you all be so calm?" she shouted, "I lied to you from day one! I brought your worst enemy into your midst! I could have been responsible for you all losing everything, including your lives! After everything that just happened, why are you still treating me like one of the kids?"

Everyone was silent for a moment. It was Donald who moved first, rising from his seat, walking around to Lena, and pulling her into a hug.

"Everyone needs someone who cares. And I bet you haven't had that in your life for a long time."

Lena soon broke into silent tears, melting into Donald's hug and looking for all the world like the scared little girl she was deep inside. Donald rubbed her back comfortingly, then shifted a bit when Webby attempted to squeeze in. Webby hugged her friend from behind, humming a calming melody to her.

After a while, Lena broke the hug, giving a bitter laugh and dabbing at her eyes with a napkin.

"Geez, I think I've cried more in the past two days than I have in years. Not cool."

"You've been through an ordeal, lass," Scrooge spoke up, "It's okay to cry. If you don't let it out now, it'll only fester. And take it from someone who's let old grudges sit for years, that's not a good way to live."

"You talking about your girlfriend?"

Lena's jaw dropped at Louie's proclamation.

"Scrooge has a girlfriend?" she all but shouted.

"It's not like that!" Scrooge shouted over the triplet's mocking cries and catcalls.

"Her name's Goldie," Webby whispered, "They're not really together, but they have a long and complicated history."

"You got the dirt?" Lena whispered back.

"A nice, big folder."

The two girls giggled a little.

Scrooge rapped the table, getting their attention again.

"Tomfoolery concerning Goldie O'Gilt aside, you are not at fault, Lena. Magica De Spell is a madwoman. She attached herself to you and controlled your life. What were you supposed to do, say no to that parasite? Any wrongs you think have been committed can all be laid at the feet of her. Now I don't want to be hearing any more of you blaming yourself, because it's gobshite."

Lena visibly relaxed.

"You still look very tired, dear," Mrs. Beakley said, "Did you sleep well?"

"In fits," Lena replied shyly, "Having Webby there helped, I think-"

"Anytime," Webby interjected.

"But I had a bit of a panic attack before bed. I guess I'm scared of the dark now."

"Rational, considering Magica is a living shadow," Huey said.

"Dewey used to be afraid of the dark too," Donald said, "I've got an old nightlight somewhere you can borrow."

"Uncle Donald," Dewey hissed, embarrassed.

"That might help, thanks," Lena said, "Wherever I end up-"

"Oh balderdash, of course you're staying," Mrs. Beakley said.

"Yeah, you think we're going to just let you leave once Magica isn't a threat?" Webby asked, "That's nuts! Of course you're staying."

Lena sputtered, but Webby and her grandmother kept a resolute front.

"Lass, you're not going to win this one."

Lena looked over at Scrooge.

"House already has a bunch of children running about, what's one more?" he said, almost resigned to it.

"So, since you'll be staying, any preferences for your room, or is that guest room you slept in last night good enough?" Mrs. Beakley asked.

With a sigh, Lena conceded the battle. The love-starved little girl deep inside jumped for joy at the prospect of a real home, but Lena forced the feeling down. She could bounce off the walls in excitement later.

"Actually, I was wondering about that tower…"

"The boys already have a room there," Donald began, but Lena shook her head.

"Not the bottom, the top."

"Why would you want that?"

"It's something that's been bugging me more and more as I grow older. People like me, people with magic, they get this…I guess you could call it a nesting instinct. Find a location to live and practice magic in, fortify it, and build up. All magic-users get this to one degree or another, and the more powerful you are, the stronger the instinct is."

"Oh, like wizard towers?" Dewey asked.

Lena snapped her fingers and pointed at him before continuing.

"Magica called it Rincewind Syndrome for some reason, and she talked about how she used to have a lair atop a volcano."

"That's true," Scrooge interjected, "It was the site of our last battle."

"That sounds both insane and awesome," Louie said.

Lena found that she couldn't really argue that point, so she simply continued.

"Yeah, and apparently, my grandfather had it so bad he couldn't sleep away from home unless he bedded down atop a stack of barrels. I started to get the instincts a few years ago, but they were easy to ignore at first. Not really in a good position to give into them. It's been getting harder, though."

"You didn't seem uncomfortable during our sleepovers," Webby said.

"Webby, this house is on a mountain. I honestly slept better here than I did usually. But all the same, one night is one thing, a permanent bed is another, and I'd like to be sure."

"There's a storeroom up there we can clear out for you," Scrooge said, "I think there's already an unused bed up there too. But I have rules about magic in the house."

"I'm not going to be doing anything major without a focus, not at my level of training. Speaking of…"

Lena gave Beakley a speculative look.

"After breakfast," the old woman replied.

 **oOo**

Lena helped Mrs. Beakley wash after breakfast, citing that it made her feel useful. Afterward, Beakley led her out to a shed in the backyard.

"The boys have already set down boundary lines where the protective field ends. So long as you're within it, Magica can't get to you. There are unused parts of the house that aren't protected, so watch your step when exploring. As for the grounds, a few yards away from the house is good."

Lena nodded through the explanation, seeing the rope strung up just beyond the shed.

Mrs. Beakley soon came out of the shed with a sledgehammer. She gave it to Lena, then pulled the amulet out of her pocket and dropped it at their feet.

Lena stared at the innocuous bit of jewelry, and remembered.

" _It's pretty…"_

" _This, niece, is a magical focus. It allows you to better control your growing magical power. In fact, this was mine when I was your age, just learning what power I had."_

 _Lena removed the amulet from the box that had previously been hidden behind the stone wall of the crumbling castle._

" _Keep hold if it, young Lena. It is the key to your magic, and the first step in how I mold you into a great sorceress."_

The hammer came down with a scream. The crystal shattered immediately, releasing a few sparks. Lena continued to bring the hammer down, screaming all the way.

When she finally finished, she stood there for a while, panting from the exhaustion.

"That felt good."

"Catharsis," Beakley said as she moved to vacuum up the debris with a small wet-dry vacuum, "It's good for the soul. I'll get this sent to a friend and the metal melted down. Would you like it back in paperweight form?"

"I don't think so," Lena said, eyeing bits of beaten metal, "I don't think it'd be anything more than a painful reminder."

 **oOo**

The rest of the day was spent preparing the room at the top of the tower for Lena's use. It was actually a two-tiered room, a built-in ladder leading up to a semicircular platform which Lena immediately decided was where the bed was going. Between Launchpad and Beakley, the room was emptied save for some old furniture, which Lena took a shine to.

"And it's ash, so bonus," Lena said as she put fresh sheets on the bed.

"Why would that matter?" Launchpad asked.

"In a lot of folklore, ash is a type of wood good for protection against monsters."

"She's not wrong," Beakley added, "Ash trees pop up in many mythologies as sacred."

"Considering I'm being haunted by an evil shadow, I want to take any protections where I can," Lena said wryly.

"We'll burn some sage later. Might get the musty smell out of the room anyway."

"Maybe hang some dried rosemary on the crossbeams…and a few horseshoes. Iron, of course"

"What, no silver?" Launchpad joked.

"I wouldn't say no to a silver candlestick or two," Lena replied absentmindedly, still giving the beams across the ceiling a speculative look.

Launchpad ended up nailing a horseshoe at each of the four cardinal points of the room. While he was doing that, Lena and Huey poured over the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook's chapter on repelling evil spirits.

"I can't believe there's a chapter on that in here."

"The Junior Woodchuck Guidebook's never failed me before. Now question, do you think a horseshoe on the trapdoor could do instead of an actual door?" Huey asked, tapping his foot on the trapdoor that led into the room.

"It should," Scrooge replied, setting a silver candlestick on the windowsill, "Lena, the candle I'm putting in this is something I received from a Tibetan monk. If you feel any bad mojo about, light it. It should help clear the air. Now where'd I put that book of matches…"

"Won't need it," Lena replied.

She snapped her fingers and a tiny ball of flame appeared above her thumb.

"That's cool," Huey breathed.

"It's an easy trick. I can do some small stuff without a focus."

"Take the matches anyway," Scrooge said, "Always good to have back-up, that's why we're putting so many protections in the room."

Lena nodded and blew the flame out.

The trapdoor flipped open, and Webby climbed up into the room.

"I knew I had one somewhere!" she cried, holding up a black rock, "I got this as a souvenir at some point. Black tourmaline. Ancient magicians used it to protect themselves from demons."

"Then it's going on my bedside table."

"Oh, and Duckworth called from outside the protection line. I asked him to find some dried rosemary earlier. Here you are."

Webby held out a small bag of dried herb.

"I kind of expected it to be in bunches," Lena said.

"We can put it over the windowsill and around the room," Scrooge said, "We just need to spread it out."

"Hey, something just came to me," Launchpad said as he moved the ladder, "I heard somewhere that there was a color that spooks didn't like?"

"Hang on," Huey said, skimming the pages of his guidebook, "Wait, here it is. Haint blue, a color believed to repel evil spirits."

"That looks kind of nice, actually," Webby said, looking over the photograph on the page of a house, "Maybe an accent around the room?"

"I really should think about putting similar touches around the mansion," Scrooge said, "I mostly got by by having professionals cast protective enchantments over me, but if I can turn this place into an anti-monster fortress, that'd do a lot for us all."

"Nice to be an inspiration," Lena laughed.

 **oOo**

The only downside was, being a storeroom originally, there were no electrical outlets. Scrooge had promised to get that squared away quickly, and in the meantime, gave Lena an oil lamp for a nightlight.

Lena stared into the flickering flame on the table beside her, watching the light play across the walls and the black tourmaline next to the lamp.

Her eyes began to grow heavy…

 _Blood splattered the walls of McDuck Manor. Everyone was dead, and Magica De Spell reigned supreme._

 _Lena stood near, wrapped in shadows to prevent movement. Tears streamed down her face as she looked into Webby's cold, dead eyes._

" _Did you really think a few simple protective charms could keep me from you, dear niece?" Magica purred, "Now, thanks to you, I have my full power once more!"_

 _Lena gazed up at her fearfully, her sobs and screams of fear muffled by the shadows wrapped around her beak._

" _I should thank you for being such a good little puppet…ah, I know just the thing!"_

 _The shadows retreated, but Lena had no time to move. Strings shot down from above, ensnaring her limbs. Where the strings touched, flesh was transfigured into wood._

" _Now you will spend eternity aware of what happened today. You will watch as I tear this world asunder, knowing you had a hand in the reigning chaos. The knowledge that all this death can be traced back to you will be yours to savor. But you will be unable to cry out, unable to move and rage at your fate, unable to escape from the pain by entering oblivion. All you can do is dance as I will you to. And when I'm bored of you, little marionette, I'll seal you up in a glass box and put you on display. I'll make sure the box cannot be reopened by any means, and the contents protected from any sort of harm. You shall be trapped within until the sun goes out, an eternal symbol of your own failure."_

 _Magica laughed as the puppet that was once Lena shed a single tear before the spell claimed her eyes, turning them into painted circles on a wooden head._

 _But there was no darkness, no loss of feeling as her flesh was encased in wood. She remained aware. She still saw, still heard, still screamed a silent scream…_

The scream tore from her throat as she finally bolted awake.

Lena could feel the cold sweat dripping between her feathers. She took great lungfuls of air. Her heart raced.

It took several minutes before she could calm down…but she didn't get any more sleep that night.

 **oOo**

Lena yawned as she lurched toward the table for breakfast. Immediately, Webby winced.

"Lena, you look awful! Did you sleep at all last night?"

"Nightmares," Lena mumbled.

"What kind?"

Lena just looked at her fearfully.

"Okay, never mind. Come on, back to bed."

Webby dragged Lena back to her room, practically shoving her into the bed.

"Get some more sleep. I'll watch over you. If it looks like you're having another nightmare, I'll pull you out of it."

"You don't have to-"

"Lena, we're practically family now. Family sticks together. You deserve so much better than whatever _she_ gave you."

"I guess it's just…new, you know? Having people who care."

"Oh, Lena…you can rely on us. We can be there if you need us."

"I'm just saying…if I do something wrong, or say something wrong—"

"Don't worry about it. Now get some rest."

Despite her complaints, Lena lightly napped through the morning, comforted by the presence of her friend.

 **oOo**

Later, the triplets, in an effort to make Lena more comfortable, asked if there was anything from Lena's old place they could fetch. Lena reluctantly described the little nook she'd made for herself beneath the old amphitheater, and how to access it.

The look on Webby's face when she realized her best friend had been essentially homeless and she'd had no idea was heartbreaking.

"Hey, don't give me that," Lena said, "I kind of did everything I could to stop you from finding out."

Webby lunged at Lena, wrapping her in a hug.

"If I'd had known, I'd have done something," she said.

"And that means the world to me," Lena replied, returning the hug, "Don't forget that."

Dewey coughed awkwardly, reminding the girls that they had an audience.

"Right, so…there's not actually a whole lot worth keeping," Lena said, "A few clothes, including this hoodie I like to sleep in. This lava lamp, I'm pretty attached to that. My phone of course, and don't forget the charger. A bunch of books, most of them are old so be careful. Small collection of spell ingredients, you can put the jars in the small cauldron. I might replace it all down the line, but I need to check their viability. A mirror I've always liked the look of, kind of smoky and antique-y. Oh, and there's this collection of bones-"

"You have a bone collection too?" Webby gasped, "You should have said something, we can compare!"

"You have a bone collection?" Lena and Huey asked simultaneously.

"Of course she does," Dewey muttered, "Girl's already got over a dozen hobbies, why not that?"

"Is that it?" Louie asked, trying to steer the conversation back, "No posters or a plant or something?"

"I don't really know why I kept posters, the mildew half-ruined them," Lena answered, shaking her head, "There's also a journal under my bed. Read it and die."

"Maybe I better go with them, then," Webby said, "Stop them from being tempted. Also, handle your clothes, there are just some things only a fellow girl should do."

"Oooh, right, good call."

The younger children ran off, and Lena felt a warmth in her heart. That they were willing to do this for her…

She shook her head. If she continued down that train of thought, she'd start crying again.

They came back some time later, dragging armfuls of stuff.

"I just realized that I don't have a bookshelf in here," Lena said as she placed the lava lamp on a table.

"That chest you had them in will do until we can get you one," Louie said, handing over a few bones, "You weren't kidding about not having much worth saving. No offense, but that place was a dump."

"None taken, it kind of was."

"You want me to sell that mini-fridge? We grabbed that, but-"

"I never actually used it much. Go ahead. We'll split the pot."

"Better give it a thorough cleaning first," Huey said, "That food was in bad shape. You don't want to know about that milk. We gave your clothes to Beakley to wash, and the chest of books is at the bottom of the ladder. We'll have to wrestle it up somehow."

"Thanks. Where's the journal?"

"Right here," Webby said, handling it like it was a precious artifact, "I kept it with me the whole time."

"You're the best, Pink."

Lena ascended the ladder to her bed-nook and tucked the journal into the drawer of the nightstand. She'd probably write in it later, detail what had happened so she could process it better.

But as she looked down at the four younger ducks, who were quibbling over where to put the bones, a smile came to her face.

She had time for processing. She was in a better place now.


	3. Trauma and Magic

**Freedom from Fear**

Chapter 3

Trauma and Magic

Webby was torn. On the one hand, the hobby that consumed much of her time. The trip to Scotland was definitely to McDuck ancestral lands. The opportunity to expand her knowledge was tantalizing.

On the other hand, Lena. Her friend was still fragile, and Webby's mere presence could calm her. Lena had had nightmares almost every night since coming to live at the mansion, and her waking hours were full of nervous energy. If something happened, and Lena needed her…

"I can see the gears turning in your brain, Webby. You should go."

Webby whipped her head toward Lena, who had been sitting and reading in a chair by the window, enjoying the atmosphere of the library. Lena was now giving her a knowing smirk.

"I know you really want to go. So you should. I'll be fine for a few days, Pink. You let your little investigator heart do its thing."

"You're sure? I can stay if you want. We could always look into more protections we can put around the manor or anxiety-controlling techniques or-"

Lena reached over and put her hand on Webby's beak, cutting off the building babble.

"I'm sure. Get going, you little crazy!" Lena laughed.

Webby gave her friend a hug, then rushed off to pack.

"Like I'd squash her enthusiasm," Lena muttered, "That's one of the best parts of her."

 **oOo**

Despite how much she had convinced herself that letting Webby go on the trip was the right thing to do, Lena still found herself missing her friend. The house was quieter without the other children.

She swiftly grew bored of the library and found herself exploring the mansion. It was a large place, and Lena found it odd that someone who lived alone would have so much room.

Then she stopped next to a painting. It seemed to be an old family portrait. Scrooge looked much the same, but there were two ducklings before him, not much older than her. His hands were on their shoulders. They bore such a resemblance that there was no way they weren't siblings.

The boy was dressed in a light blue sailor suit, and Lena realized in a flash that this was a young Donald.

"That's a trip," she muttered, "Teen Donald."

The other duck took her a minute, but then she figured it out. This was Donald's sister, the triplets' mother. She had goggles, a pilot's jacket, a scarf, and a grin that could have lit up a city block. Even just the image was filled with an energy.

And then Lena understood. The reason for such a big house was so Scrooge could keep his family close. But that hadn't happened. Whatever tragedy that left Donald as the triplets' guardian (and it had to have been tragedy just from some of the things she overheard), it was enough for Donald and Scrooge to cut off all ties until recently.

Lena felt a pang of remorse. All alone, in a massive house, nothing but the ghosts of people long gone as your companions. She suddenly had a greater understanding of why Scrooge was such a curmudgeon sometimes.

Another part of her wondered if whatever pain there was in his past was the reason why he worked to make Lena feel a part of the family, why he tried to ease her pain.

"Geez, I'm getting grim," she said to herself, walking away from the painting.

She was so lost in thought, she almost missed the line of tape across the floor and wall, but she pulled up in time.

"Nice work, Huey," she said, breathing a sigh of relief, "Bright red danger color good, crossing boundary bad."

She looked out the nearest window, seeing the raised rope across the lawn where the boundary continued outside, like a bubble of safety.

Curious, she opened the window and crawled out, shimmying down the wall and onto the lawn.

"Still got it," she muttered as she inspected the rope.

She walked along the edge of the boundary, familiarizing herself with where the protections ended.

Suddenly, there was a shimmer beyond the rope.

Lena froze, fear flushing through her, but the shimmer didn't grow into that familiar silhouette. Instead, it formed into the ghostly figure of a prim-looking dog, dressed like a butler.

"Greetings, Miss Lena. It is good to finally put a face to a name."

Lena was confused for a moment, before snapping her fingers in realization.

"Oh, you're that ghost butler."

"Duckworth," the butler said, giving a slight bow, "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Nice to meet you too, I've heard about you. This protection thing isn't bothering you, is it?"

"Not at all. While I am just as vulnerable to the field in this state as Magica would be, I would be remiss to complain about it while it remains the only barrier against a dark force. If it protects the inhabitants of McDuck Manor, including the newest inhabitant, then I shall deal with the inactivity. It is of course temporary. Once the eclipse passes and Magica's power wanes, we should be able to figure out a more…flexible means of protection."

"If you say so, Jeeves," Lena shrugged, "I'm just glad it's working. Hey, has Magica tried to get in here?"

"She has indeed tested the boundaries. I have witnessed her do so. Thankfully, the protections hold strong. She's been quite upset about it."

"I'm not surprised. If she wants the maximum impact, she needs that dime before the eclipse passes. Time's running out. She's probably pretty ticked that I'm out of reach now too."

Lena paused, then looked at Duckworth worriedly.

"Hey, you be careful out there, okay? If Magica decided to mess with you, then even as a shadow, I don't know if you could fight her off. I'm not keen on finding out either. I don't want anyone else hurt because of me, so if you see her-"

A screech interrupted them, and a black blur raced toward Lena. She stumbled back as the blackness impacted against an invisible barrier, splattering like water against a stone. A pained hiss echoed from it.

The black reformed, and a pair of hellish red eyes glared at Lena. Lena backed up more, tripping onto the ground and screaming in fear.

" _You think this little shield will stop me?! I will get through eventually, Lena! I will get that dime, and I will punish you for siding with the McDucks! The blood feud will be satisfied! I am the dark shadow lying in wait! I am the stuff of nightmares lurking in the hidden recesses of your mind! I am the Sorceress of the Shadows, and I will not be denied! I am Magic-AAAHH!_ "

A glowing blade stabbed at the shadow, and it recoiled. Duckworth continued to thrust a rapier at the mass of black, and it soon fled, cursing them both.

" _Mind yourself, specter! You won't be doing that again!_ " it shouted as it fled.

The rapier dissolved back into ghostly energy, which Duckworth reabsorbed into his form.

"Are you alright, Miss Lena?"

But Lena would only sit shock-still, her eyes wide and her breathing shallow.

She felt hands at her shoulders, a calm voice speaking to her. In her shocked state, she allowed herself to be led back inside and sat down. After a minute, a cup was pressed into her hand, and she drank it robotically.

She slowly started to come back to herself. She realized she was in the kitchen. Donald was across from her, looking concerned.

"You okay, Lena? Back with us?"

"What—"

"Drink some more chamomile, it'll calm your nerves."

After a bit more time and some tea, Lena finally calmed down enough to have a direct conversation. Duckworth had told Donald much of the details, but Lena filled in a few blanks. Donald was a considerate listener, letting Lena vent.

"She was right there, and I froze! I didn't conjure fire or call for help, I just sat there like waste of space!"

Lena slammed her fist on the table, cursing.

"I'm so weak!"

"You're not weak," Donald said, "From what we've seen and how you're acted, that's pretty consistent with trauma caused by abuse. Weird supernatural stuff aside, that's what she did to you, right?"

"I…I guess…"

"Then it's understandable. Anyone would freeze if suddenly confronted by an old abuser. If you'd known she was coming, you probably _would_ have blasted her with fire or something."

Lena looked away, uncomfortable.

"Lena, that witch can't touch you anymore. We'll make sure she can't, by any means necessary. Ducks don't back down. We'll find a way, even if we have to…I don't know, track down a genie and wish her away to do it."

Lena snorted. She suddenly had an image in her head of a goofy duck in puffy pants and a massive turban.

"Feel better now?" Donald asked.

"Getting there," Lena sighed.

"I know you probably don't want to hear this, but maybe we should consider therapy for you. You just got out of an abusive home, and considering who your guardian was and how it ended, I'd bet my boat you have some form of PTSD."

"PT-what?"

"Posttraumatic stress disorder. You've been through a lot, and your mind is still in shock from it all. You might seem fine most of the time, but then something sets you off, and all that pain comes roaring back and hits you like a truck. It happens to a lot of people after serious trauma, and there are ways to help. I saw someone after my sister…after she disappeared. Therapy would be nothing to be ashamed of."

Lena gave a noncommittal answer, but she wouldn't be able to stop thinking about it for awhile.

 **oOo**

When Scrooge returned, Lena went to him and told him about the encounter with Magica. She felt he deserved to know.

Scrooge was silent for a long time. When he finally spoke, what he said stunned her.

"How much magic can you do without a focus? Do you really need one?"

"Sir?"

"Do you know why I don't like magic? It's because in my experience, too often it's used as a shortcut. Just wave a magic wand and your problems go away. That's always rubbed me the wrong way. There are certainly other reasons, how many times it's been used to try and kill me for starters, but that's the big one. To someone like me, who's life philosophy has been about self-improvement and self-reliance, someone who built himself up with hard work…well, magic is antithetical to that."

Scrooge paused, as if gathering his thoughts.

"But if you have a way to defend yourself, but lack the means to do it right…well, that's just silly to let that keep going. I won't let you use it to skimp on any chores or anything like that, but otherwise…"

"For real?" Lena gasped.

Scrooge nodded.

Lena lunged for him, hugging and thanking him profusely. Scrooge squawked angrily at the sudden intrusion of his personal space, but he let it continue until Lena had babbled herself out.

When the hug broke, Scrooge phrased his initial question again.

"Well, I can do a bunch of small stuff without a focus, but most of them are practically party tricks compared to really doing things," Lena explained, "The difference between summoning a book from across the room and lifting a train car away from a trapped person. To do the second, I need a focus, something to let me channel my magic most effectively."

"All right then, in the morning, we'll start looking through the Other Bin to see if there's an artifact you can use," Scrooge said, "I've been meaning to catalogue that place better anyway. One last question, though. I'm a little surprised you're so excited to start working with magic again. My question was a bit of a long shot, and I'd have thought, after all that Magica did to you-"

"That's exactly why I want to continue."

Lena's face grew very serious as she spoke.

"Magica De Spell was a monster, and she used her power for monstrous things. I am going to be the exact opposite of her. I will use my power to help and heal, to do good and fight the monsters."

Lena placed one hand over her heart and held the other out. The outstretched hand glowed softly, as did her eyes.

"Lena Le Strange will be a force for good. This I swear."

 **oOo**

After talking with Scrooge, Lena set off to look for Webby. She found her friend with the triplets, all four talking in hushed tones. Lena cleared her throat to get their attention. They jumped and whipped around, staring at her with wide eyes.

"You know, I was going to casually ask what was up, but that's some real suspicious behavior," Lena said slowly, "What's going on?"

"Nothing," Huey said quickly.

"Pull the other one, it's got bells on."

Dewey elbowed his brothers, muttering for a huddle. The four huddled together, whispering amongst themselves. Lena caught snippets of 'think she can help' and 'don't have much'. Finally, Webby shot her head up.

"Of course I trust her! What kind of question is that?" she half-shouted.

Lena tried to ignore the warm feeling she got in her heart at that proclamation. She failed miserably.

Finally, the four dragged Lena into an unused room and laid out the whole story.

Della Duck. The triplets' mother, Donald's twin sister, Scrooge's niece. An adventurous soul, she traveled and explored alongside Scrooge and Donald in the old days.

But before the boys were hatched, she disappeared. Whatever happened caused a rift between Scrooge and Donald, and they didn't speak to each other for a decade. Donald rarely spoke of his sister, so the boys had little knowledge of her.

All they knew of her disappearance was that it had something to do with a Spear of Selene. It wasn't an artifact, that much they knew, but what it was they had little idea.

Lena sat back, exhaling sharply.

"Geez…that's some heavy stuff."

"Lena, you're magic and know a lot about that kind of stuff," Louie said, "Do you think you can do something to help us solve this? Some kind of window into the past, we can see what happened, that sort of thing?"

"Sorry, Green, nothing doing," Lena replied sadly, "That kind of scrying, especially looking nearly a decade into the past…even if I had a proper focus, that's beyond me. To say nothing of the fact that you need to know your subject to seek them, and I only found out about this little mystery _today_. There are workarounds, but they're hard to accomplish and would require artifacts that I wouldn't begin to know how to find."

"Oh," Louie said, looking disappointed.

"You're sure?" asked Huey.

"Sorry, but it's just not feasible to the best of my knowledge. I'm pretty sure that even Magica would have a hard time with a feat like that."

"It was worth a shot," Dewey said.

"I still want to help you, this is some crazy stuff and I want in. It's the least I can do for what you've done for me. You want my advice? That letter that started this was addressed to Scrooge. 'Scrooge, I've taken the Spear of Selene. I'm sorry.' If anyone can tell you what this thing is, he can."

"There's no way he'd tell!"

"Then corner him and don't let him escape. This is important to you, right?"

"Probably more than anything else in my life."

"Then go at him like a dog with a bone," Lena said, "It's your mother, and you deserve to know. If I were in your shoes and it was my mother I wanted to know about, I wouldn't let anything stop me."

Dewey looked conflicted for a moment, then sighed.

"Okay, that'll be our nuclear option. If all else fails, we go to the source."

"Or if we get something to pin him down with, whichever comes first," Louie said.

"There's always that," Webby said, "Thanks, Lena. Hey, did anything happen while we were gone? You went to talk to Uncle Scrooge real fast."

Lena blanched.

"Now who looks suspicious?" Huey said.

This lead to Lena spilling about her encounter with Magica, which led to a big group hug to comfort her, which led to an idea to cheer everyone up, which led to…

"Banzai!" Lena shouted, rolling around the corner and firing her dart gun.

Dewey managed to dodge, but Louie was hit by the fire.

"Ah! I'm down!"

Dewey returned fire, but Lena had already ducked behind cover. She soon raced off, giggling. She hadn't had this much fun in ages!

She suddenly stopped, the feathers and hairs on the back of her neck bristling.

She ducked just in time. A trio of sticky darts flew through the air where her head was. She looked up and saw Webby hanging from an iron chandelier by her knees, a grim smile on her beak.

"Your power will not avail you today, sorceress."

"You'll have to be better than that, Little Miss Spy!" Lena shouted, firing at her before dashing off.

She had suddenly realized why Huey said that Webby took this game to another level, and wanted no part of a direct confrontation.

She weaved through the hallways, doing her best to keep mobile. She spotted a downed Huey covered in sticky darts and leapt over him, using the momentum to grab the wall and swing around the corner.

And then she skidded to a halt. In her flight, she'd gotten turned around, and was now facing a line of red tape.

"Oh shoot…"

"Trapped like a rat," came Webby's voice from behind.

"I suddenly miss my magic more."

POP-POP-POP-POP-POP!

 **oOo**

Lena stirred awake, briefly confused.

An atomic dinosaur was rampaging on TV. Huey was slumped in his chair. Louie was hanging halfway off the couch. Dewey was curled up like a cat on the ottoman.

Webby was snuggled against her side, sharing her blanket.

Then she remembered. After the dart game, they relaxed in front of a cheesy B-movie. Soda was drank, snacks were eaten, and fun was had riffing on the movie. They all must have conked out at some point.

She saw Donald shuffling in with more blankets, draping them over his boys. His eyes met Lena's but all he did was nod before turning off the TV and shutting off the remaining lights.

Lena settled back down, easing one arm around Webby. Her eyelids began to drop back down.

A feeling of warmth washed over her, and Lena felt safer than she had in a long time.

She did not have nightmares that night.

 **oOo**

"Morning, Lena. How's your back?"

"Oh, ha ha. Make fun of the girl who slept on the couch. I'll have you know that couch is really comfy, and I slept like a baby."

Scrooge gave a wheezing old man chuckle before opening up the door to the Other Bin.

They spent the much of the day going through it. And Lena loved every second of it. So many different magics to see and explore. It was almost like a museum. Even if the two of them spent more time revising the Bin's archaic cataloging system than serious looking for a focus, Lena still enjoyed herself.

The best part was Scrooge's stories. Often, he'd give a brief explanation of how he'd acquired this or that artifact, along with explaining what it did or was supposed to do.

"…it's supposed to answer any question, but I never could get the blasted thing to work…"

"…came across this beauty in the Amazon. Believe it or not, some lackwit was trying to use it as part of a ritual to gain control of the sun. Apparently no one ever told him we lived in a heliocentric solar system, not a geocentric one…"

"…this staff was supposed to be used to summon rain from one of the various African rain gods. The problem was that the incantations required were very specific, and there was no one left who could make the proper intonations of the language. Dead tribe, dead language, you understand. Get it wrong and everything from nothing to a massive storm could occur. So guess what Glomgold tried to do…"

"…Draculesti Manor, home of the legendary Drake Von Vladstone, also known as Count Dracula Duck. He'd been dead for centuries, but I did end up in a tussle with Magica De Spell over this artifact, the Coin of the Lost Realm. Turns out old Drake tied part of his lifeforce to this thing…"

"…not the real Holy Grail, mind you, but it's a clever enough mimicry, if you prefer your healing elixirs to have a monkey's paw twist to them…"

"…a necklace that belonged to the sun goddess Amaterasu. Ended up racing Glomgold for it…"

"…which is why I keep this locked up. If that rock ever made it out into the world, its gold-making properties could have destroyed the global economy! I didn't even use it myself, so worried about the implications was I…"

"…it took quite a while to wrangle this horse, let me tell you. Most foul-tempered beast I ever laid eyes on. And they say unicorns are cute…"

"Now this is no ordinary dreamcatcher-"

"Oh trust me, I know all about this one!" Lena interrupted, backing away rapidly, "Keep that sick thing away from me! I was whammied by it once, I'm not getting whammied again! My nightmares are bad enough, thank you very much."

A few hiccups aside, Lena was fascinated. This was far and away from the darker brands of magic that Magica had attempted to impress upon her.

They didn't find a focus that Lena could use, but they did find several books on magic that Scrooge had discovered and stored away. He gifted the grimoires to Lena, who was ecstatic to have this new knowledge.

"Maybe we'll find your focus another day," Scrooge said as they exited the Other Bin.

"I'm content with these for now," Lena replied from around the stack of books, "This stuff's already looking awesome!"

"Alright, careful now. How about you leave some of these here and carry them back to your room a few at a time. I don't want you tripping because you couldn't see where you were going."

Lena reluctantly set down her large stack and grabbed a smaller armful of books.

"Now, two things before you pop off. One, no using magic as a shortcut. You put in hard work like anyone else and earn what you get."

"Deal."

"Second…"

Scrooge gave her a wry smile.

"You call me Uncle Scrooge like all the other young'uns here."

Lena set down her books and gave him a hug.

"Not a problem…Uncle Scrooge."

Scrooge hugged her back briefly.

"Alright, now go enjoy yourself!"

Lena grabbed her books back up and raced off.

It was on her final trip when she ran into Webby. As they walked, Lena explained where she'd been all day.

"He's letting you call him Uncle Scrooge?"

"Seems so."

Webby nearly knocked Lena over with her hug.

"Welcome to the family, Lena!"

"Okay, geez, get off!" Lena laughed.

As they set the books down in Lena's room, Webby got an idea. She dragged Lena off to her room, reminding her of the spell book she'd acquired and hid away.

"I think you'll get more use out of the Grimoire du Merlock than I will," she said.

"I'm up for it," Lena nodded, "If I'm going to be continuing my studies in magic, I'll need all the info I can get."

It was when they entered Webby's room, the first time Lena had set foot there since moving into the mansion, that things went wrong.

As Webby dug through a trunk, Lena cast her gaze fondly toward the mystery wall. A splash of pink caught her eye, and she saw the doll impaled on the wall with an arrow.

She'd seen it a million times, it was practically a fixture of the room, like the model planes or the large globe. But the sight of it sparked something. A memory she'd rather forget.

Her heart beat a rapid staccato, her lungs felt like they were in a vice. All she could see was that doll, but the events played out before her eyes. Blood pounded in her ears, and she could just hear the voices.

" _Lena, run!"_

" _Why? She's been working for me."_

 _Webby gives her a look of betrayal, then tries to run, but Magica fires off a bolt that turns her into a stuffed doll. She can hear the grunt of pain as her friend is overwhelmed by the magic._

" _Webby! NO!"_

" _She keeps barging in. We've got to put a bell on her or something."_

 _She tries to confront Magica, keep the dime from her, hoping against hope that there's a way to help her friend._

" _I'm not doing anything until you turn Webby back!"_

" _I'm sorry, I must have misheard you. Are you telling your MASTER what to do? Because that doesn't sound like someone who wants their freedom, does it Wendy?"_

 _And then Magica uses the puppet that was Webby to attack her, uses her friend's voice against her._

" _You're not my friend! You're a coward, a traitor!"_

" _No, Webby, this isn't you!"_

" _I know who you really are: a monster, just like your aunt!"_

 _There is a flash of light and power, a scream that she will remember for the rest of her days._

" _Whoops! She gone!"_

Webby grabbed onto Lena, pulling her into an embrace. The older girl was hyperventilating. She shook like a leaf and cried a waterfall of tears. But she wouldn't speak, all she would do was whimper and scream and cry.

Webby dragged her over to the wall, where a spare blanket hung from a chair. She wrapped it around them and held Lena close, shushing her gently. She put as much warmth into the hug as she could, trying to coax the weeping girl out of whatever flashback she was in and back to reality. She spoke softly, speaking of innocuous things and tales of smaller adventures. She talked of when she first met Ma Beagle face to face, of how she used a playground and a ball pit to trap her.

"The look on her face was priceless. I really wish someone had taken a picture."

She talked about meeting the goddess Selene on the island of Ithaquack.

"She was super-nice. And she gave Dewey a special sphere with pictures of his mom."

She talked about sledding on the slopes of Mount Neverrest.

"Maybe we'll go there someday and do it together. Would you like that?"

Eventually, Lena calmed. Through tears and hiccups, she told the story of what she had seen in the Nightmare Catcher. Of the event that still haunted her nightmares.

Webby just kept comforting her.

"It's okay, you're okay. You're not alone anymore. I won't let you face the world alone ever again. It's just a bad dream, it won't come true. We won't let it. We're going to beat Magica and she won't ever hurt you again."

Afterward, Webby helped put Lena to bed, the panic attack having sapped her energy. Mrs. Beakley ran into them halfway to Lena's room, and carried her the rest of the way.

As Webby tucked Lena in, her grandmother spoke from where she was lighting the good mojo candle in the window.

"When all this blows over, we should definitely look into getting Lena some therapy. Donald told me about the encounter the other day, and I definitely agree with his PTSD theory now."

After leaving Lena to hopefully more pleasant dreams, Webby took the doll off the wall and buried it in a box of her old things.

"No more nightmares," she said to herself, "Even if I have to reach into her dreams and fight off the monsters. No more."

* * *

 _A small word on Lena's last name. Since in this story, Lena's not a living shadow (it just wouldn't fit with the story I wanted to tell), I had to give her a backstory of my own. A little more will be revealed later, but I will say for now that Le Strange is her last name, not De Spell. The Le Stranges were a splinter line of the De Spell family, and Lena is the last of them. Magica found her a few years into her existence as a shadow, but since she never formally adopted her, because she physically couldn't and because she's horrible, Lena kept her last name._


	4. The Shadows

_Angst time!_

 _But seriously, 'The Last Crash of the Sunchaser' was a gut-punch of an episode._

* * *

 **Freedom from Fear**

Chapter 4

The Shadows

Lena followed Scrooge, Webby, Huey, and Dewey out of the house. The enthusiasm was contagious, and even though Lena wasn't going with them, she couldn't help but smile. A weekend trip to Monacrow for a big science convention and a hunt for something called the Maltase McGuffin sounded interesting, even if she was fairly certain looking for something no one had ever seen was an exercise in futility.

"Shame I can't go with you," Lena said, "That whole thing sounds fun."

"I'll bring you back souvenirs and pictures!" Webby squealed.

"You better, Pink," Lena replied, ruffling the younger girl's hair.

Donald passed by with some wood.

"C'mon, Uncle Donald. You can fix the houseboat when we get back," Huey said.

"Uh-uh," Donald squawked, "I'm almost done. We'll be on the water again in two days!"

There was a loud crash from the other side of the house.

"Seven days…"

There was an explosion. A cloud of smoke rose into the air.

Donald just sighed.

"Okay, since you've been trying to fix that thing since Tiffany the money shark, I'm going to the nuclear option," Lena said, "I've been looking into repair spells, keep myself honed with simple stuff, you know. And hey, big house, lots of breakable objects, might be a useful skill. I think I can speed up your repair time. It'll still be a lot of work, but…"

"Then let's get started," Donald replied, perking up a little.

"You're really going to help Donald?" Webby asked.

"With Beakley using some of her vacation days and going with you, and Duckworth not much company considering the barriers, I need something to occupy myself," Lena shrugged, "Besides, it'll be good to use my hands for something constructive, you know?"

"Just try not to get frustrated, lass," Scrooge warned, "When Donald tries to fix something himself, there's usually a lot more repair work than you'd think."

"That's what the hammers, nails, and spells are for."

 **oOo**

Lena had been right. It had felt good to use her hands.

Donald wasn't much for conversation, but with her helping him, the accidents that usually cropped up around him had been seriously cut. She was able to convince him to leave the electrical work for later, and easily repaired an accidently broken window with a wave of her hand, preventing Donald from stepping on the shattered glass and setting off a chain reaction of pain.

The days seemed to fly, and soon they were painting. There was a brief bit of silliness with the paint, but they were able to finish up easily. As Lena picked up a can of haint blue for her room, muttering about not having gotten to the planned accents yet, she heard Donald speak up.

"Back so soon?"

Lena turned, and saw the triplets at the edge of the pool. Donald presented the finished boat, but the boys barely responded. Huey and Louie looked downcast, and Dewey's face was thunderous.

"What happened to you?" Donald asked.

"We know about the Spear of Selene."

Dewey's words were cold as a winter wind. Donald slumped, giving off a small 'oh' of understanding. The boys filed onto the boat, muttering about wanting to go back to the marina.

A flowerpot falling and breaking from their passage finally jolted Lena out of the feeling of doom that had pervaded the air since the triplets' arrival.

"What just happened?" she asked as she cast a repair spell on the pot and restored it, "What was the Spear of Selene? What's going on?"

Donald just sighed, picking up the new repaired flowerpot to avoid looking Lena in the eye.

"They found out why Della isn't around anymore."

"Yeah, I know that part. They've been trying to figure that out, and it sounds like they did. I'll ask again. What just happened?"

Donald just shook his head.

"I can't…I can't talk about this right now. I need to see to my boys."

"That's not an answer! Can't or won't?"

Donald just entered the houseboat with a mutter of "Both."

Lena stood outside for a moment, confused. Then she gathered up the paint can and stalked off.

"Fine. You won't say anything, I'll find someone who will."

 **oOo**

"A rocket! The Spear of Selene was a rocket?!"

"Yeah, stunned me too," Webby said, "It was Della's idea. She'd already explored so much of the Earth with Donald and Uncle Scrooge, so she wanted to go bigger, reach for the stars."

Webby paced as she spoke, gesturing wildly.

"Obviously, Donald didn't like the idea. She was a mother-to-be, and space travel was more crazy dangerous than a lot of the other things they'd done. Uncle Scrooge decided to build the rocket in secret, make it a surprise to celebrate the boys' birth…but Della found out and took it for a test drive."

Webby stopped pacing and sighed.

"Then a cosmic storm came out of nowhere, and they lost her. Donald blamed Scrooge, and they didn't speak for ten years…"

"Great Gaia," Lena breathed.

"No one's been taking this well," Webby said, slumping against her wall of bookshelves, "Dewey was furious, and he blamed Scrooge. Huey and Louie weren't much better. Lots of voices were raised. Scrooge even yelled at me when I tried to be a voice of reason. The only thing that stopped it was the Sunchaser crashing. We spent the trip back in silence. Granny was so angry at how this happened that she's taking an extended vacation, and me with her. Get out of the house, you know? We'd be taking you with us if we could. Maybe when the eclipse passes, we'll come back for you, but…"

"But I'm kind of stuck until then. Does anyone really think splitting up is a good idea? Magica is still out there."

"I don't think anyone is thinking clearly right now."

Then Lena saw that Webby was starting to tear up.

"Everything's falling apart…this is my family, and it's breaking…and I can't stop it…"

Lena sat down next to Webby, pulling her into a hug.

"I'm sorry, Webby…I'm so sorry."

 **oOo**

"Well, you've successfully pushed your family and everyone who cared about you away. AGAIN. I hope you're happy."

Mrs. Beakley stalked off, leaving Scrooge alone in his office. The old duck retrieved a key from his desk drawer, opening up an unused room. He ignored the thin layer of dust over everything, simply pulling aside a sheet covering an armchair and sitting down.

His chest heaved from frustration, but soon, he slumped, his anger slipping away. He lost himself in bitter memory, the accusing voices of his great nephews forming a twisted soundtrack over his failures to locate Della.

They just didn't understand. Everything he did, and they threw it back into his face. Of course he lashed out! And now he was alone again.

Then she had the gall to ask if he was satisfied with his work, if he was happy.

"I am," he growled, ignoring the tears in his eyes.

The richest duck in the world sat alone in an empty room, wallowing in anger and grief and trying to convince himself that it was better that way. Family was nothing but trouble.

A few minutes into his brooding, there was a knock on the door.

"What is it?" he snapped.

Lena slowly poked her head in. Scrooge's scowl softened a little.

"You'll be wondering about your situation then, I wager."

Lena nodded, not daring to say anything.

"A promise is a promise, Lena. You are safe in this house. I don't want anyone to fall prey to that witch no matter who they are…"

Lena edged into the room, opening her beak to thank him, but Scrooge continued.

"All the same, forgive me if I'm not much company. I wouldn't blame you if you cut and run the second the eclipse was over. Everyone else already has…"

"Is it really that bad?"

"It's better this way," Scrooge said bitterly, "Maybe that's the way it's supposed to be. Maybe I should hone that bitterness. Yeah, that's what I'll do. Who cares about other people? I'm Scrooge McDuck! I'm the richest duck in the world! I don't need family dragging me down! I don't need anyone! Other people might need family, but I'm different! Everybody hates me, and I hate everybody!"

"Bullshit!"

Scrooge started, turning his gaze to a now-angry Lena.

"That's not the Scrooge McDuck I know! The Scrooge McDuck who took in a damaged young girl because she needed a home! The Scrooge McDuck who tossed aside his hatred of magic to help her discover who she wanted to be! You've got your family mixed up with mine. Mine was good for nothing, it's your family that's the most amazing thing in the world. You fight and get into trouble all the time, but it doesn't matter because you love each other. I wanted a family like yours for _years_!"

Scrooge just stared at her blankly.

"Fine! If you can't see that, we don't have anything to talk about. You can stay in here and rot!"

Lena stomped toward the door, then stopped at the threshold.

"And for the record, I've only met one person who was nothing but hate. And in my mind, you are _nothing_ like Magica De Spell."

She slammed the door behind her with finality and stalked down the hall.

It really was falling apart. Webby was gone, the triplets were gone, Beakley and Donald were gone. Scrooge was drowning in negativity, the whimsy she'd come to enjoy replaced by cold and bitterness. Lena was alone once again.

"Pluck that!" she growled, angry tears in her eyes, "I promised to use what I had to help and heal. Time to be a healer!"

She stormed outside, went right up to the boundary line, and started shouting.

"Duckworth! Get over here! We got a problem!

There was a shimmer of blue, and the butler appeared.

"If you are referring to the breakdown of the family unit-"

"I am. We need to fix this. It's down to us. Donald, Beakley, and Dewey are too bitter, Huey, Louie, and Webby are too broken up, and Launchpad might have a big heart, but he's got a tiny brain. We're the only ones that can fix this. So get your running shoes on, Jeeves. I need a few things and I need them fast."

"You have a plan, Miss Lena?"

"Yeah, I've got a plan. I should probably point out that it's a fairly terrible plan and I'm not entirely sure it will work, but it's a plan."

 **oOo**

Days passed in relative silence.

Webby and Beakley had gone to stay at a hotel room until they could figure out where to go next. Webby called Lena every day, venting on how unfair and messed up this all was. Lena told her to have faith that things will be fixed.

Donald got his houseboat back to the marina, and the triplets had bid Lena good-bye.

"When the eclipse passes, look us up, yeah?" Dewey had said.

Lena only nodded, giving them all a comforting hug.

And Lena watched as Scrooge regressed into a sloppy hermit, unwilling to do much from the sheer weight of his depression. Lena didn't bother speaking to him. She knew it would be like talking to a brick wall.

There was a tension in the air. Something was going to happen soon.

 **oOo**

Scrooge sat in his chair, munching on an old slice of pizza and sulking like a recluse.

Suddenly, the door burst open. A swarm of blackness surged into the room, wrapping around him like a mass of tentacles.

"What the blazes?" Scrooge shouted, struggling in vain against the strength of his entrapment.

"Hello, Scroogey…I've missed you!"

Laughter rang out, and Scrooge felt his heart stop. It had been many years since he'd heard that laughter, that fateful day on Mount Vesuvius, but it had never left his nightmares.

"Magica De Spell…but…the protections!"

"Come now, Scroogey," the figure walking out of the shadows purred, "Did you really think you could keep me from my family for long? After all, family is everything…but you wouldn't know that, would you? You drove them away, and now there is no one to help you."

But it wasn't Magica who came out of the shadows. It was Lena. Her usual shirt had been replaced by a dress darker than the night, and her eyes were pure black. A twisted smile graced her beak.

"You're defenseless, and it's all down to your own pride," she said in a voice that echoed, like there were two people speaking, "Can't admit when you're wrong, even if it would save everything. Now you're a bitter old man on a mountain…alone… _vulnerable_ …"

"What have you done to Lena?" Scrooge gasped.

"She's in here, with us! Now she'll never be alone."

"You'll release her or-"

"Or what? You don't have any moves left, old man! The only ones who could have tipped the balance are gone…thanks to your mistakes. It's always been down to your pride. Your pride caused Della's loss, your pride kept you from showing Donald just how torn you were about it, and your pride kept you alone all these years. I've been watching, Scroogey. You don't have anyone to blame but yourself. And no matter what you might tell yourself, no matter how you try to convince yourself that you're better off alone, it doesn't change anything. For all your wealth and accomplishments, you are nothing if you are alone. And now we're here."

Magica stepped forward and pulled at the Number One Dime, yanking until the cord had passed Scrooge's head. She lifted the coin up and regarded it.

"Me, Magica De Spell, triumphant, and you, having failed one last person…"

Magica smiled a grim smile.

"She's screaming, you know. Screaming for help that will never come."

Scrooge dropped his head, the words finally sinking in.

"I did this…I thought I could keep everyone safe…Lena, I'm sorry…Della…"

 **oOo**

Webby and Mrs. Beakley helped carry a few boxes onto the houseboat. Bentina was hardly going to let her granddaughter become separated from some of her only friends.

The reason behind it all still rankled her. Years of acting as Scrooge's conscience, and he practically spat on her and her granddaughter. Granted, she was trying to keep it in perspective. The ghost of Della Duck had been dredged up, and Scrooge had never taken her loss well. Bentina knew that losing his niece was one of the hardest things the old man had ever experienced in his life.

But something just kept poking at her to stay mad.

Donald overlooked the gathered people with a sigh. He'd always known that there was a hole in his nephews' lives, a hole that could never be filled. But seeing them learn the truth about their mother…well, it was a far worse reaction than he feared. His own bitterness toward Scrooge had softened in recent years, which was why he had even considered asking his uncle to watch the boys in the first place, leading to the paradigm shift of the past six months. But the old hurt was still there, and now he was looking at it in his boys.

The irony was not lost on him.

Of the triplets, Dewey was the most upset over everything. They'd missed out on having an awesome mom, and he blamed Scrooge. Della Duck was gone because of him, and there was nothing that would ever change that.

Just as Webby was opening her mouth, about to ask what they were going to do, a blue form impacted the ground with a splat. The blue pulled itself together, revealing Duckworth.

"We have a Code Red!"

Everyone was taken aback. Webby and Beakley were the most stunned. They'd known Duckworth the longest, but had never seen him that upset. The ghost had a wild look on his face, and his eyes were terrified.

"Duckworth, what happened?" Beakley asked quickly.

"Magica De Spell happened! She somehow got past the protections! Lena's been fully possessed and Scrooge is her prisoner! She's probably fortifying the manor as we speak, waiting out the last few days before the eclipse! If we don't do something now, we'll never stop her!"

Donald's jaw dropped. Beakley looked horrified. Huey and Louie were stunned. Webby had tears in her eyes.

"Lena…no," she whispered.

"What do you want us to do?" Dewey asked acerbically, "Scrooge kicked us out, remember?"

"This is Magica De Spell!" Duckworth shot back, "That doesn't matter."

But Dewey turned away.

"He wants to beat Magica, he can do it himself."

"But what about Lena?" Huey asked, "You want to leave her out to dry too?"

"Please!" Webby cried out, tears streaming down her face, "We have to do something! We're all she's got! We're her family! We need to help her! And help Scrooge!"

"Like Scrooge helped our mom?" a bitter Dewey shot back.

There was a sharp sound. It took a moment for everyone to process that Webby had just slapped Dewey.

" _This isn't about Della!"_ she screamed, "Scrooge was just as torn about her as anyone else. He lost her too! She was family! Family helps each other…if you can't see that, you're no better than how you think he is."

Dewey looked back at her, stunned and ashamed.

Donald stood straighter, clearing his throat.

"Webby's right. Whatever else, Scrooge is family. Family shouldn't turn their backs on each other…not again…"

Donald looked haunted for a moment before shaking his head.

"Mrs. B, do you have Launchpad's number? He can buzz the mansion in the Sunchaser, keep Magica's attention."

"Good idea," Mrs. Beakley said, "But we'll need a special brand of firepower to take her on."

"We can do it!" Webby said, "The boys and I will sneak in and raid the Other Bin! There has to be something in there we can use against Magica, force her out of Lena!"

"That's too dangerous!"

"I know that mansion like the back of my hand! I'm small and I'm quick and I can get in without anyone noticing! I want to help!"

Donald cast a look at his nephews, and they looked as resolute as Webby did.

"We don't have a lot of options," he said.

Bentina grunted in frustration, but nodded.

"I can be your spotter," Duckworth said, "I can keep an eye on the movements around the mansion. However, I am unable to enter myself. Magica didn't tear down the protections, she slipped through them, and I haven't the faintest idea how she did it."

"You did enough to warn us, Duckworth," Beakley said, "We'll take it from here."

 **oOo**

As it turned out, they couldn't take it from there.

Webby, Huey, Dewey, and Louie were able to slip into the mansion undetected while Donald and Beakley made some noise out front. Between them and the buzzing from the Sunchaser, it wasn't too hard.

As they crawled through the vents, aiming downward to the storeroom that housed the entrance to the Other Bin, something grabbed at Louie's leg. He was dragged out of the vent with a yelp, catching the attention of the others.

"Louie!" Dewey shouted, before a shadowy tentacle zipped out of the darkness and lashed around his middle, dragging him off too.

Huey was next. Webby managed to fight off two of the tentacles with a knife she'd swiped from the kitchen where they'd first infiltrated, but soon enough, one of the mass attacking her caught her hand, and more wrapped around her middle and limbs, dragging her off.

The shadowy tentacles dragged them through the manor, finally stopping in a room off Scrooge's office. The walls were caked in shadow and twisted into odd curves. The window was broken, and another few shadow tendrils were dragging in a beaten Donald, Beakley, and Launchpad.

"Launchpad, how did you get caught?" Dewey asked.

"Misjudged my height on a turn, crashed into the lawn. Tentacles got me a minute later," Launchpad shrugged.

"See now, if I had holed up in the Money Bin, that might have worked," Magica said, "Only one thing to crash into in the middle of the bay, and crashing into it might have been a good idea."

The tentacles gathered them together, holding them around the room. Still bound in his chair was Scrooge, a broken look on his face.

"You know, it's a shame those protections prevented the ghost butler from entering this place," Magica said, "He would have been the only one to stand against me without assistance. He might have even forced me out of Lena."

Magica ran her hands down her body.

"Not the most elegant body, but I suppose it still has some growing to do."

"Let her go!" Webby shouted, struggling against the shadows binding her, but to no avail.

"No, no, dear spirited Webbigail. You sit tight. There's quite a bit of monologuing you have to listen to. All of you do. It's your own fault for charging in on a suicide mission. Such compassion. Family really can be a shackle sometimes, can't it?"

"You monster!" Huey shouted, "You wouldn't even be here if you hadn't been using your own family like a puppet!"

His brothers added their cries of agreement, but Magica just laughed.

"Which only proves my point! She thought she could escape, but there will always be a tie back to me."

Magica turned to Donald.

"What I really don't get is you. You have no reason to be here, if the past ten years are any indication. You must get it from his side of the family."

Donald just quacked in confusion.

"Pride. It really is no different from Scrooge's. You claim that he took your sister from you, but you couldn't see how destroyed he was over it. You just turned away and cut all ties with him, as if that would fix anything. You could have let that hate and bitterness go ages ago and extended a hand, but instead you kept your pride and doomed your family to near-poverty. You are just as guilty in this exchange as he is. And now the boys share in that same guilt. History repeats. Bitterness and pride must be a Clan McDuck family trait!"

Donald looked like he'd been punched in the gut. But swiftly his anger came roaring back. He growled darkly, and opened his mouth to rebut her claims.

"She's right…"

Donald stopped, looking over at Scrooge. His uncle raised his head. They could see red-rimmed eyes and dried tracks of tears down his beak.

"We should have come together after tragedy, but instead we let it drive us apart. We lost ten years of our lives. I spent it a bitter man with nothing to drive me but the next board meeting, and you spent it struggling to raise three kids on your own. But I tried to fix it, I really did. I did all I could to find her. I sent people up to search for her. I spent too many sleepless nights to count by the radio, sending messages out into the black. I put billions into the project, dipping into my money bin until around a third of it was left. I came this close to driving my company to bankruptcy…"

"Wait, bankrupt?" Louie gasped.

"Messages? Search parties?" Huey whispered.

"Quite a bit, from what I've discovered," Magica said mockingly.

"But the board shut it down," Scrooge continued, as if he hadn't been interrupted, "It was too much of a drain on the company, they said. I tried to stop it, but they outmaneuvered me. That last day, they literally dragged me out of the room where I was sending transmissions into the aether, hoping one of them would hit her. What was left of Project Selene was dismantled. I tried to fight…I'm sorry…I did everything I could…I'm sorry, Della…I couldn't bring you home."

Scrooge McDuck was a titan. He'd done more in his lifetime than most people could have done in twelve. He'd faced down dangers and dark forces without flinching. Knowing his history and seeing him in action, it was hard not to think of him as invincible.

But before them was not the Scrooge McDuck they knew. The veneer had been peeled back, revealing the old man who missed his niece so much that it physically ached. He looked every one of his many years as he wept bitter tears over his greatest failure.

"Uncle Scrooge…"

Scrooge looked up, meeting Donald's gaze. His nephew was starting to tear up.

"I'm sorry…our family's been apart for too long. We wasted ten years on grief, and I don't want to live like that anymore. We need each other. Della would have wanted it that way."

Scrooge sniffed, tears forming anew as a small smile graced his beak.

"I'm sorry too, Uncle Scrooge," Huey said, "Blaming you wasn't right."

Louie shook his head in agreement, his own tears starting to fall.

Dewey looked conflicted, but a look from his brothers finally broke him.

"You lost her too," he finally said.

"Oh, boys," Scrooge said, relief washing over him.

Webby started giving a relieved laugh. Beakley and Launchpad smiled.

A clapping sound interrupted the moment.

"Thank you, that's exactly what I needed to hear," Lena said.

She snapped her fingers, and the shadows retreated, freeing them. She reached up into the air and pulled something, like she was yanking an object down.

The world lurched. Before them was a pristine room with no sign of the dark twisting of a moment ago. Behind Lena was a box, which a swarm of tentacles erupted from. The tentacles retreated back into the box, one rubbing Lena's side like a cat.

"Nice job, Fred. I'll get you that steak later," she said.

The last of the tentacles disappeared, and the opening of the box shrank, until the entire thing was no bigger than a bread box.

Lena then walked to a sideboard. She removed the black contact lenses from her eyes, blinking rapidly once they were out. Next to the lens case was a small bottle of eyedrops, which she used.

"Don't know how some people use those every day."

"What's going on?" Huey asked, "Magica-"

"Isn't here," Lena said bluntly, "She never was. I put this scenario together to get you all to actually talk instead of angsting like whiny teenagers. I do that enough for all of us, thank you very much."

"This was all a trick?" Scrooge shouted, his temper starting to show.

"It got you to talk without yelling at each other, didn't it?"

Scrooge slumped at Lena's glare.

"Tell you what, next time you get pig-headed, I'll just slap you."

Lena walked back to the center of the room picking up a large dreamcatcher from where it had fallen.

"Remember this, Webby? The Nightmare Catcher, capable of yanking you into your worst nightmare. With a little preparation and the coming lunar eclipse strengthening certain magic types, I was able to supercharge it and overlay a single nightmare onto reality: mine."

"Magica possessing you," Webby gasped.

"The catcher made Fred look like a mass of shadows. I got him for the Other Bin. He's actually quite friendly for an inter-dimensional tentacle monster."

"And the dress and the contacts were part of the trick?" asked Louie.

"Had to dress the part, give the catcher an easier time visualizing things. I got the contacts from Black Arts Beagle. Duckworth met him in a wicca shop while getting me the necessary ingredients. Yeah, the butler was in on it. He was just as worried about you as I was. Black Arts supplied the contacts after being told they were part of a prank, even threw in a simple enchantment so they'd automatically size to my eye. I still owe him ten bucks, though…"

"So why go through all this?" Beakley asked, "This couldn't have been easy."

"It wasn't, in multiple senses of the word. But it was worth it. I couldn't just stand by and watch you all fall apart. Especially not after everything you've done for me. You welcomed me into your home, gave me shoulders to cry on and things to laugh about. You made me feel like I belonged."

Lena ran a hand through her hair.

"I had to do something. Family sticks together," she finished, nodding toward Webby, "You've been teaching me that. You all have."

Webby shot over and hugged Lena.

"Next time, bring me in on it," she laughed.

"I do this next part right, there won't be a next time."

"What next part?"

Lena broke the hug and went to one corner of the room, where an object covered by a sheet lay.

"I'd been thinking about how to express my gratitude, and the idea ended up bundled with fixing things. Supercharging the Nightmare Catcher and writing my lines was easy compared to what I spent the majority of time preparing."

She whipped off the sheet, revealing a crystal ball on an ornate dais.

"Wait, I recognize this," Scrooge said, "I found this years ago. It was supposed to be able to answer any question put to it. But I never could get it to work, so I stored it in the Other Bin for safekeeping."

"You never got it to work because it requires preparation to use, as well as a magic user to start it up," Lena shrugged, "I started thinking about it after discovering it during the…let's call it the bin audit. I knew right away it would take a lot of research and prep time to use effectively. This whole thing with the Spear of Selene was just the kick I needed to speed up my witchcraft."

"And?"

"I found a proper instruction manual buried deep in the Grimoire du Merlock, and extrapolated more information from another tome. When done right, it will answer questions, providing all the information necessary as opposed to cryptic prophecy. This much you got from those legends that led you to it. However, it does have a large recharge period. While using it under the eclipse will help, it will still only answer two questions put to it."

"That seems like an…awkward number," Mrs. Beakley said.

"It's a magic crystal ball, Tea Time. I don't make the rules. Anyway, I've already used one question to test it."

Lena gave them a devious smile.

"I now know the exact method to defeat Magica De Spell for good."

Scrooge started laughing, and that set everyone off.

"All right!" the triplets chorused.

"Ding-dong, the witch is almost-dead!" Launchpad sang.

"Okay, come here, high-five!" Donald said, and he and Lena slapped palms.

"Okay, but that just leaves the other," Lena said, sobering, "And I think I know what you guys want to ask…"

The group was silent for a moment, looking at each other. A spark of hope seemed to flicker to life. Lena walked back over to the crystal ball and laid a hand on it. A spark of magic shot from her hand into the ball, causing it to begin glowing. She nodded at them and took a step back.

Huey and Louie nudged Dewey forward. He looked at his brothers and his uncles, but they only nodded. So he squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and spoke.

"Where is Della Duck?"

The crystal flashed once, then like a movie protector, images were beamed out.

"Pictures, quick!" Donald shouted.

The boys took out their phones and started clicking from multiple angles.

"Wait, where'd I put my phone?" Lena gasped.

A tentacle shot out of the box and handed it to Lena.

"Oh, thanks Fred."

Lena joined the boys in their efforts. Soon, the crystal dimmed and the images faded. But even without the pictures, what was seen would have been burned into their brains.

"All this time, and I was looking in the wrong direction," Scrooge breathed.

"You think she's still alive?" Dewey asked.

"She must be or the crystal would likely have shown us her body," Lena said, "The Grimoire du Merlock describes how Merlock used this to locate his brother, and it clearly showed a skeleton then."

"So she's alive?" Huey gasped.

"Likely. I'd like to do more research to confirm…"

"Or we can just go up there and find out for certain," Scrooge said, "Now the real issue will be getting a ship built under the noses of those vultures. Might take awhile."

"My sister's been waiting for about a decade," Donald replied, indescribable relief on his face, "What's a little longer?"

The triplets barreled into Donald, crying happy tears. Donald looked over at Scrooge, and with nod, the old duck joined in. With a cry, Webby dove into the group hug, Beakley and Launchpad joining the happy occasion.

Lena looked on with a smile, but then everyone parted slightly, making a space.

"Lena? There's room for another," Webby said, her arm out.

Lena rushed into the group hug without hesitation.

 **oOo**

Lena set the box down in one corner of her room. It shook slightly, and a tentacle creeped out to nuzzle her arm.

"Down, boy," she giggled.

There was a knock on her trapdoor.

"It's open!"

Scrooge climbed into the room, his eyes immediately zeroing in on the box next to Lena.

"You sure it's safe keeping a demon-in-a-box in your room?" he asked.

"He's hardly a demon," Lena replied, waving her hand, "And he's actually quite sweet."

Scrooge took a seat in a chair, tapping his cane on the floor.

"I wanted to thank you for helping fix my family…even if I don't fully agree with the method."

"You're well-known to have a thick skull, Uncle Scrooge," Lena countered, "If there was ever going to be healing, you needed something dramatic to push you into it."

"Well, can't get much more dramatic than the idea of one of my bitterest enemies invading my home and threatening everything I hold dear."

"I did what I felt was right. It was a gamble, sure, but it was better than letting things continue to disintegrate. I'm sorry if I hit any nerves too hard."

"Donald will probably grumble about it a little longer, but I think giving us the means to find Della will go a long way towards putting it all behind us. But that's not all I wanted to talk to you about. I wanted to discuss your question to the crystal ball."

Lena blew a harsh breath.

"Right, that."

She walked over to a bookshelf, picking up a slim notebook.

"It all boiled down to one thing," she said, tapping the picture taped to the front.

It depicted a gauntlet. It seemed to be made of leather, plated with bronze. The bronze protected the back and forearm, as well as the upper fingers. The plating was colored oddly, a bloody red. A black gem was inset in the back of the hand.

"We need to find the Hand of Phobos."

* * *

 _Had you going there for a bit, didn't I?_

 _Also,_ the first person who makes an off-color crack about a girl with a pet tentacle monster WILL be fed to Tempest! __


	5. Eclipse

_Lena's forever's gonna start tonight.  
_ _Once upon a time she longed for love,_  
 _Now Magica's plans will fall apart.  
Nothing else to say, here's the chapter's start…_

 _…_

 _I am NOT sorry._

* * *

 **Freedom from Fear**

Chapter 5

Eclipse

The full height of the lunar eclipse was that night.

"Eleventh hour time," as Louie put it.

The inhabitants of McDuck Manor spent the whole day doing their best to augment the protections, knowing that it was Magica's last chance to secure the dime and her stolen power. If she failed, what power she had would wane, and another eclipse of sufficient quality wouldn't be coming for several years.

"It's not just the moon, it's also an alignment of Saturn," Lena explained, "It's why she took so long to come back."

"I was wondering about that," Scrooge said, "That battle on Vesuvius was fifteen years ago."

"And it took her several years before she found me," Lena said, "I come from a splinter line of the De Spells, the Le Stranges. I don't remember much about my parents. They died a long time ago. Magica found me in an orphanage and helped me escape. At the time, she was…nice. She introduced me to a world of magic, told me things about my family. And I was so desperate for someone to love me…by the time I realized she how twisted she was, we were already bound together. I'd spent the last four years trying to wear away the bond with what power I had. It was hard to do it without Magica noticing. Forcibly possessing me put a serious strain on it. When she was forced out, that finally broke it."

"So she was less an aunt and more like a distant cousin?" Huey asked.

Lena waved her hand from side to side, making a noncommittal sound.

"We just used aunt and niece because it was easier, to be honest."

"Given your respective ages, it would be," Scrooge muttered.

"And this'll prevent Magica from possessing you again?" asked Webby.

"Half the reason we were bound together was because both parties agreed to it. In the state she was in, it was the only way," Lena explained, "The other half is blood magic, but that's another story. Without the eclipse enhancing her power enough to force things, she won't be able to do it again. Stalling her now buys us time to find the Hand of Phobos, and it allows me to leave the manor grounds without fear that she'll jump me."

"That crystal ball gave you a lot of information, didn't it?" Mrs. Beakley asked, looking over a picture of a mystic circle.

"It's what it was designed to do. And to be fair, since we didn't always have the right tools and ingredients, Magica concentrated a lot on theory and analysis over practical when teaching me magic. I can't do much performance without a proper focus, but I am an absolute demon when it comes to research and preparation."

"I've known people like that," Scrooge said, "Better at making plans and preparing for anything than they are in an actual brawl. I remember old Hannibal Stork. Give him a minute, he'd be good. An hour, great. But give him a week or more, he was unbeatable. And he loved nothing more than when a plan came together."

The main thrust of it all was a ritual that would build upon the present protections. Huey, Beakley, and Webby, having the steadiest hands, drew out the chalk circle on a large slab of stone that Launchpad had brought in. Louie and Donald helped Lena mix several ingredients together, which would be poured steadily on the perimeter of the circle. Dewey kept an eye out for Magica, in case she tried anything before they were finished.

They were doing this outside, where the empowerment could more easily reach the protective bubble.

"Nervous?" Louie asked as he handed some rosemary to Lena.

"Extremely," she replied, "But if this works, I'll have a lot more freedom. And it'll be the first step to being rid of Magica for good."

Lena took a moment to look around at everyone. All these people had pitched in to help keep her safe, had opened their home and hearts to her. Lena had spent years wishing for some warmth in her life, and in one fell swoop, she had more than she even thought she'd have.

Even if they won today, Lena knew that family took work. There would be ups and downs. But she was willing to try. And she would work to be worthy of the love she'd been given, even if it took the rest of her life.

Lena caught Webby's eye, and smiled at the younger girl. Webby smiled back.

"We got this," she mouthed.

It was sunset when they finished the circle.

"All that's left is the catalyst," Lena said.

"What is that catalyst, anyway?" Huey asked, "Your notes just mention 'an artifact of sufficient magical power'."

"Do we have time to raid the Other Bin?" asked Donald.

"We really should come up with another name for that," Louie muttered.

"Don't need to," Lena replied, "Our artifact is around Uncle Scrooge's neck."

Scrooge reached into his coat, fishing out the Number One Dime.

"The dime?" several people asked.

"During their last battle, Magica tried to trap Uncle Scrooge within a 'token of luck' of the Clan McDuck. The Number One Dime."

"Aye, I turned the tables and twisted the spell back on Magica," Scrooge said.

"She was able to escape being sealed away by the skin of her beak, but it left her a ghost of herself, all her power sealed away into the dime. That's why she wants it. By invoking the spell again under the same conditions, meaning the eclipse, she can regain her power and her physical form. That said, that little coin is still charged with mystical energies. Inert, but there all the same. And we can bleed off some of that power for our purposes."

"Since it came from Magica, wouldn't that mean it's dark magic?" Huey asked.

"After all this time and with such close proximity to a good soul like Scrooge? To say nothing of Donald and Della, when they were around? Fat chance!" Lena laughed, "Raw magic is pretty malleable, and very empathic. Don't get me wrong, there are a lot of spells that are very dark, plenty of black arts that earn the name. But as a general rule, magic is about intent, and relies heavily on who's using it."

"And since Lena and I will be charging this little spell," Scrooge began.

"We'll be using the closest equivalent to solar power short of invoking a sun god! How's that for light magic?"

"Better start it, then!" Dewey called out, "I see movement in the forest. Any bets that it's Magica?"

"Sucker's bet," everyone else replied.

Scrooge and Lena rushed to the center of the circle. Scrooge held the dime from its cord, letting it spin between Lena's hands. Lena began to chant. It wasn't anything she read in a book, rather something she created to let her focus on the channeling magic and keep in mind what she was doing this for.

" _To put an end to fearful time  
I cast a spell upon this dime  
Thus the shield empowered be  
To stop the witch and set me free  
No longer shall I run and cower  
I unleash a mighty power  
With Clan McDuck I make my stand  
My path forward now at hand"_

The dime glowed with an ethereal light, and power flowed off it into the circle beneath their feet. The outer edge of the circle glowed, the light flowing into the other lines like water. When all of the mystic circle was filled, the light rebounded, up into the dime and through it, arcing skyward. It hit an invisible dome and scattered. The power flowed down, turning the dome into a visible force.

So of course, it was at that time that Magica made an appearance.

The shadow shot forth, hoping to break into the dome before the light reached the bottom and finished the strengthening. In a flash, Duckworth appeared in front of her, slashing with his spectral rapier and holding her off long enough for the spell to complete.

Magica managed to burst past him, but it was too late. The wave of energy hit the ground with a clang, and whatever way she could have had forward was sealed off.

The shadow howled in fury, banging against the dome and cursing.

"Forget it, you harpy!" Scrooge shouted out as he stabilized a weary Lena, "You won't be getting through that before the eclipse passes and you lose what power you have left. It's over!"

Lena stared at the display before her. Everything in her was telling her to run and hide, the primitive parts of her brain telling her to flee from the danger. But she stood firm. She had to have faith that the plan would work. If she ran now, she'd never stop running. She would always be afraid.

So she stared at the shadow, forcing herself to watch as it railed against the empowered protective dome.

"This is on you, lass," Scrooge said, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder, "You did this. You stopped her."

A small laugh bubbled up from Lena's throat.

Outside the barrier, Magica fumed. She'd been counting on the extra energy granted to her by the eclipse to break through, only to be outplayed. She couldn't even take her anger out of the butler ghost, he had vanished the second it was clear that she had lost.

But Magica did know who to blame. Despite having encountered it so much, Scrooge knew little about magic himself. No, this was on her traitorous niece. She could feel it when she hit the barrier, she could practically smell it.

Lena Le Strange had an enormous magical potential, that was one of the reasons Magica targeted her to use. But bad fortune had split her from her puppet, and the puppet had wasted no time in making sure there would be no more strings.

Magica pounded at the barrier, raging…

Wait…

Was that…

Magica paused, feeling the mystical wavelengths of the protective dome. Some of it felt familiar…

There! That was her power! It had a different taste to it, but it was hers! Magica looked back at her foes, noticing that Scrooge had his dime out. They'd used the energies it contained as a catalyst for the spellwork!

"Clever," Magica muttered, "There's much in there, I know that for a fact…but maybe…"

She reached out, ignoring the stings of pure light that stabbed her dark form. She couldn't touch it all…but there must be a part of that power that still remembered where it came from…

The eclipse reached totality, casting the world in an eerie light.

The triumph felt by the extended McDuck family turned to horror as energy slipped off the dome and into the shadow.

"No," Lena whispered, "Nonono, she can't…"

There was a flash of dark light. The shadow bulged and color seeped into it.

" _Feed my power, dark eclipse  
Free my form from the abyss  
Dormant magic now unchained  
The Shadow Queen be whole again!"_

A fully-corporeal Magica De Spell laughed, the sound shaking the souls of those present.

"Yes!" she cried, "No longer a skulking thing in the dark! I'm back!"

"No, no, no," Lena cried, "That wasn't supposed to happen!"

"It was a good try, dear niece," Magica purred as she ran her hands over her face and body, reveling in the feeling, "But that power you used to bolster the shield was stolen from me long ago, and it remembers its true mistress."

Magica's gleeful smile collapsed, and she stared at them with absolute hate.

"That said, you sided with the enemy of the great blood feud. You've thrown in your lot with the McDuck line…you'll die for that. But not before I force you to watch as I kill the people you've chosen over your own blood."

Magica took a step forward, her hands outstretched. Said hands impacted the barrier, which disgorged a shock. She yelped and flinched back.

"What?"

She gingerly touched the dome, only to get the same results.

"No…NO! It's still up?"

"It appears you miscalculated how much magic you took back," Mrs. Beakley sneered.

Magica angrily punched the dome, getting a large shock for her trouble. Gritting her beak, she backed up and raised her hands, intent on blasting her way in.

Nothing happened.

"What? My magic!"

"Yeah, definitely didn't get enough back," Louie taunted.

"I'm afraid that ends the round," Dewey smirked, "Thank you for playing."

"You don't talk that way to me!" Magica shouted.

Huey blew a raspberry in response.

"Go home, lady, you're drunk!" Donald shouted.

Webby stood protectively in front of the shivering Lena.

"You don't get to touch her," she said, "Not now, not ever."

Magica glared at them all if it her mere gaze could kill them.

"You can't keep her from me. I am her blood kin! Who in Tartarus are you?"

Webby's response prompted everyone else to move, taking a stand with Webby and blocking Magica's baleful gaze from Lena.

"We're her family."

Magica howled in fury, trying vainly to cast some kind of magic at them.

She stopped when she noticed her hands beginning to fade to black.

"No…NO!"

"Whoopsie, looks like you can't hold yourself together," Scrooge said, a triumphant grin on his face, "Now get off my lawn! I see you back here, I'll shoot you were you stand, see that I don't!"

Magica gave them all one last glare before turning and running into the forest, shouting her undying vengeance as she ran.

Lena fell to her knees, her courage spent.

"Oh Gaia!"

Webby lunged toward her friend, who was starting to break down.

"She's not gone…this was supposed to weaken her! She's got a body now! Who knows what she'll do?"

"A body that felt pain," Louie said.

This caught everyone's attention, and he shuffled his feet as he explained.

"I mean, you all saw that, right? The dome shocked her, she was hurt by it. Monster movie rules, if it can be hurt, it can be killed, right? How much damage could we cause a shadow versus how much we could cause a person? Uncle Scrooge threatened to shoot her, now he actually can!"

"And with no magic of her own to defend herself," Scrooge began.

"Boom, headshot," Beakley finished.

"One dead sorceress, one less threat," Donald said darkly.

"Nothing's really changed," Webby said, rubbing Lena's back, "We meant to put her in a position where she couldn't hurt us, and now we have. She's got a body, but she's got no magic. She has less options for how to hurt us, and we suddenly have a lot more on how to deal with her for good."

Lena slowly stopped shaking.

"She still has the knowledge of a master sorceress," she said, "Who knows what artifacts she could dig up to use against us?"

"All the more reason to find the Hand of Phobos," Scrooge said, "So we can better defend ourselves from what she might cook up. In the meantime, she definitely won't be able to slip into the mansion and possess you. We don't even need that dome anymore, she's not getting within ten meters of the property line without getting a face full of buckshot. You're safe, Lena. You're safe."

Lena took a deep breath and looked up into the sky, watching as the eclipse ended. Her heart finally calmed.

"I'm safe…"

 **oOo**

Magica cursed as she stumbled through the underbrush.

She was just. So. CLOSE!

But she tripped at the finish line, and one of the prizes she sought, her corporeal form, was less a step up and more a wish on a monkey's paw.

She could already feel herself break down, a dull pain shooting through her nerves. She was certain now that while she could have a physical body, she lacked the power to maintain it. She'd need to test now long, work the transformation like a muscle so she could have real limbs for longer periods, but all the same…

Magica looked up, watching the eclipse pass. In all likelihood, it would take another eclipse of the same caliber for her to regain her power from the dime and fully resume her body and magic.

What really rankled was Lena. Much as she hated to admit it, she shot herself in the foot with that girl. The second she was out from Magica's influence, she went running into the arms of people who showed her genuine affection. That fact that Lena saw her as a monster was on her.

That didn't mean she wasn't going to punish the girl when she finally got her power back, of course. It just meant she saw where Lena was coming from.

"This is why I never wanted children. I don't know how Poe did it."

But enough with wallowing. She needed to plan her next move.

Shaking off the last of her hurt pride, Magica allowed herself to collapse back into her shadow form to conserve what energy she could. She streaked toward Duckburg, intending to look for a black soul she could influence for aid…

* * *

 _I'm going to have a long and potentially exhausting day tomorrow, so you're welcome for the early update._

 _I was originally going to keep Magica as a shadow, albeit weaker with the eclipse passing, but after seeing the finale, I realized that Disney was setting her up into her more classic role of semi-regular enemy, and was inspired a bit by the idea that she'd be trying to reclaim lost magic. So, happy medium between canon and my ideas._


	6. Freedom's Ring

_I am such trash for the idea of Lena a part of the family. You can tell, can't you?_

* * *

 **Freedom from Fear**

Chapter 6

Freedom's Ring

The bell on the Magic Box wicca shop dingled.

Black Arts Beagle looked up from where he was perusing a novel during a slow day, and did a double take.

"Le Strange? Is that you?"

"Hey Black. Still working here I see," Lena said with a smile, clearly amused at the idea of a Beagle with an honest job.

"Where you been, girl? Feels like you dropped off the face of the earth!"

"Dealing with family issues," came the reply, her smile disappearing, "Suffice to say, my abusive witch of an aunt isn't in the picture anymore."

Black Arts gawked at her. He'd known Lena Le Strange for some time, the duckling being one of the shop's regulars. He'd always suspected that the aunt she ran errands for wasn't exactly kind to the young teen (and considering how Ma Beagle acted sometimes, that was saying something), but whenever he'd tried to press, she shut down. Seeing her talk so blatantly about it…

"You okay, kid?"

"Am now, thanks. I'm going to be seeing a therapist tomorrow to start working on some lingering issues, but I'm in a _much_ better household now. So, business. It's books today. What do you have on minor Greek gods?"

Black Arts gave her a look, but finally decided to let it drop. Lena seemed brighter, like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, so it didn't matter what happened so long as she was okay. He certainly wasn't going to mess with what was likely a good thing for her. He was a Beagle, not a monster.

"Anyone specifically?" he asked, walking around the counter and making his way toward the bookshelves at the back wall.

"Phobos. I'm working on a lead."

"Better be a good lead," Black Arts said, "Phobos is one of those gods they made some pretty bloody sacrifices to. And not bulls and stuff like the rest of them were happy with, this guy had temples built out of skulls."

"I'll be careful, but it's an important project," she replied, following him.

They worked fast, searching through the shelves. Black Arts was able to find her a few slim books, and she gladly purchased them. She also threw in a ten, explaining that it was owed money from the contacts.

"The butler ghost came from you?"

"Had to help a friend's family with something. They worked great, by the way."

As Lena made to leave, Black Arts called out to her

"You be careful, Le Strange. That's fear itself you're researching."

Lena stopped, slumping a little.

"I've already seen my fears," she replied softly.

And with that, she left.

Outside, Lena took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She then got out her phone and earbuds and pulled up her music app, letting a rapid violin beat and mellow voice calm her nerves. Even with knowing Magica couldn't possess her anymore, she still knew she was out there, scheming, and she carried a seed of worry in her heart because of it.

She shook her head, banishing those thoughts, and continued to walk, letting the music wash over her.

 _The day is the wife whom I elude  
The one to whom I should be right  
Although forewarned by peers and kin  
I always get into the night…_

 **oOo**

Lena entered the large building, weaving around several playing children. When she'd been told about Funso's Fun Zone, she'd been expecting it to be busy, but the sheer amount of children around actually stunned her for a second.

Hopefully the boys had found a relatively quieter table, because crowds were something she'd have to get used to. Magica never exactly let her go to the park to play.

She tried to keep a tight grip on her anxiety as she looked over the restaurant side of Funzo's, finally spotting Webby's bow in one corner. She made her way over and slid into a seat, exhaling sharply.

"Busier than I thought it'd be," she said.

"Thankfully, I was able to hook us up with a table off to the side, out of the greater chaos," Louie said.

"You okay, Lena?" Webby asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Lena had swiftly learned that Webby was a very tactile person when I came to people she cared about. It was nice.

"I'm fine. Where's Red and Blue?"

"Getting drinks," Webby replied, "Pizza should be here soon, too."

As if on cue, Huey and Dewey arrived with four cups of soda. A waitress trailed behind them, two large pizzas balanced on her arms. Louie got up and helped with one, and soon enough, the five children were chowing down.

"This is actually pretty decent pizza," Lena said.

"Told you," Dewey said.

"Your errands go good, Lena?" Webby asked.

"I got a few books. Hopefully that will give us a starting point."

"Too bad you can't just look up this stuff online," Louie said.

"Basic stuff about Phobos, sure. But more mystical things? Generally not a good idea. You have to understand, magic is a force unto itself, a universal power like gravity or magnetism. That kind of stuff doesn't like to be digitized. Not that there haven't been people who have tried, but…"

"What happened to them?"

"You add electricity to eldritch forces, and you end up attracting all sorts of attention. Generally the wrong kind. Demons are vain and curious creatures, and anyone dealing with them has to know exactly what to do or they're in serious trouble. Can you imagine what would happen if information about demonic entities was on the Internet for any yahoo to look up?"

The younger ducks thought about it for a moment, then arrived at the logical conclusion. They all shuddered.

"That sounds like an invitation for someone to do something stupid," Huey said.

"In spades. Even experienced magic users have to tread carefully when dealing with certain arcane forces. According to Magica, my grandfather was a very powerful warlock, but the _second_ he ran afoul of an entity called Cipher…"

Lena ran her finger across her throat and made a choking sound.

"And if a powerful and experienced warlock can get deep-sixed by the wrong demon, what chance does a rank amateur have?" Dewey asked.

"Which I think is Lena's point," Webby said, "Put the wrong information in the wrong hands, and it's a recipe for disaster."

The subject soon changed to school, with Louie complaining about homework as per usual.

"I mean, this stuff about World War Two is interesting, don't get me wrong, but do we have to have so much work to do? And don't get me started on math! Webby, you're lucky to be home-schooled."

"Speaking of school, will you be attending any time soon, Lena?" Huey asked.

"Actually, it's looking like I'll be joining Webby for online tutors and stuff," Lena shrugged.

"Why?"

"Two reasons. One, my anxiety and PTSD is still a shifting thing. We're still working out the parameters of what sets me off. Public school setting, probably a bad idea."

"Yeah, I can see that," Dewey said, "Elementary's bad enough sometimes, what's middle or high school like?"

"Second reason, Magica yanked me out of that orphanage when I was pretty young, and she didn't do much teaching outside of magic, so my level is a lot lower than my actual age. Beakley gave me some tests. My reading comprehension is easily college level, going through all those old books with Magica was good for something. But my science and math scores were atrocious, and my history wasn't much better. Basically, I'm too advanced in one area, and in the others…well, I've kind of outgrown the third grade."

"So private tutors are kind of the only option, then," Webby said, "At least we'll be study buddies!"

"Keep a positive look on these things, that good," Huey said, "So, first day out of the mansion. You having a good time?"

"Good food, good company, got to go to my favorite shop. Yeah, I'm riding high on life," Lena replied.

"Here's to a future of freedom!" Webby laughed, holding her cup high.

The others joined her toast, a big smile on Lena's face.

 **oOo**

Lena took the offered book from the tentacle and set it on the shelf.

"There, sorted," she said to herself.

She pet Fred's limb, then pulled out her notebook and one of her new books and settled in for some research. She poked at her phone, bringing up her music app and deciding to go with one of the app's recommended mixes on a lark. She skipped her earbuds, letting the phone itself softly play music. She just wanted some background noise as she worked.

She explored the volumes, writing down what felt pertinent as she pieced together a path to the Hand of Phobos, pausing only to note a song she decided she liked so she could add it to her own playlists later. She continued this work until she heard a knock on her trapdoor.

"Lena, dinner!" came Webby's voice.

"Be down in a bit, let me finish this page!" she called back.

She finished her work quickly, and slipped down the trapdoor to meet Webby below.

"So do you know what we're having?"

"Salmon and rice," Webby said, "Donald cooked."

"Really? I didn't hear the smoke alarm go off."

"He's actually really good in the kitchen. Makes me wonder why he never got a job as a chef."

"Speaking of jobs, what's he doing now?"

"Aside from helping around the house, Uncle Scrooge gave him a part-time job as his secretary. He kind of needed it, since Granny always complained when those kinds of duties were shoved on her."

"And that's working?"

"Donald's an accountant, you know. Professionally, I mean."

"Actually, no I didn't," Lena said, "Huh. Didn't expect that."

There was a brief detour to a bathroom to wash their hands (very needed in Lena's case, given the ink smears from her work), and they soon arrived in the dining room in time for Donald and Mrs. Beakley to bring out the food.

What followed was a typical family dinner. Conversation flowed smoothly and everyone enjoyed each other's company.

"So I found some stuff about Sparta that looked like it might lead to something," Lena said to Scrooge, "They were big into the worship of Ares, and I found several references to his sons Phobos and Deimos. Seemed like a good place to start."

"Good thinking, lass. I've already reached out to some of my contacts in the archeological fields for information. Hopefully we'll get an adventure out of this."

"Which I'm sure I'll enjoy, but at the moment, I'm more concerned about getting ahold of this thing."

"Careful, lass. That kind of focus on the prize nearly got me, Donald, and Della killed while looking for the Treasure of the Golden Suns."

"Whatever happened to that captain guy, anyway?" Donald asked, "We kind of left him trying to dig into the million tons of dirt the temple got buried under."

"I looked into it awhile back," Scrooge said, "Still digging, poor sod."

"That sounds like a story," Dewey said.

The boys cheered for the story, and Scrooge chuckled.

"Alright, alright. So it all started when Donald and Della were young, and they had come to live with me at the mansion. Their parents, my sister Hortense and her husband Quackmore, had died in a car accident. Quackmore's folks were going through a rough time on the farm, and couldn't take them in. So in addition to financing a loan for the farm, I took the twins in. Anything to take the pressure off."

"My sister and I were going through a rough time," Donald said, "And we actually ran off after an argument with Uncle Scrooge. Looking back, none of us were in a good state of mind. We'd lost our parents, he'd lost his sister, and neither party was used to each other. We had some growing pains. Anyway, as we were sneaking out of the mansion, we noticed some suspicious characters slipping away too. Naturally, Della wanted to follow them, and dragged me along for the ride.

"It was the Beagle Boys, and they were stealing an antique model ship for some character who called himself El Capitán. The ship had carvings that apparently led to a sunken treasure. Della and I used the ropework of the old theater they were meeting in to swipe the ship back. Then we booked it back to Uncle Scrooge and told him everything."

"I saw an opportunity for us all to bond, and decided to try and find the treasure together," Scrooge said, "At the same time, Glomgold had made a bet with me. Whoever made the most money from scratch in two weeks wins. The loser eats his hat."

"Two birds, one stone then," Lena said.

"That's the idea. The clues led to a tiny South American country called Ronguay."

The boys snickered.

"Alright, get it out of your system," Scrooge said, rolling his eyes.

"Sure it wasn't the wrong way?" Louie shouted out, before bursting out laughing, followed by his brothers.

"Boo!" Lena shouted back, throwing a dinner roll and beaning Louie on the head.

"Headshot, ten points," Webby piped in.

"Alright, enough of that," Scrooge said, regaining control of the room, "We later learned that El Capitán had contacted Glomgold about the treasure, which had prompted the bet. Old Flintheart decided to sabotage our chances, paying off our pilot so he'd bail out mid-flight and leave us stranded. But even at that age, Della was obsessed with aeronautics. She was too young to learn how to fly for real, but she'd studied books on it anyway, and was able to keep us on course and bring us to a safe landing in Ronguay."

"It was terrifying at the time, but awesome in hindsight," Donald interjected, "When we were older, Della usually served as our pilot on adventures."

"The coordinates led to a cave connected to the ocean, and there was the ship, a large hole in her side from which golden treasure spilled. But the water was rising, and it blocked the entrance we used. The only way out was to sail out. So Donald somehow managed to melt down the gold and use it to patch the hole in the ship! We floated it out with improvised oars!"

"How?" Huey asked, throwing his hands in the air.

"Gold's got a low melting point, so I can see you melting it down easy, but it's also heavy," Louie said, "How'd you get it to float?"

"I'm a sailor," Donald smirked.

"That doesn't answer my question!"

"Don't bother, boys. Della and I both wracked our brains trying to figure it out, but all we got was a headache," Scrooge said.

Donald continued to smile.

"Wasn't an easy ride, though. Glomgold and El Capitán intercepted us, intending to steal the treasure themselves. I thought quickly and managed to turn them on each other. In the chaos, the boat sank, and along with it the treasure. But I managed to keep one of the golden coins, and that meant I technically won the bet!"

"You should have seen the look on Glomgold's face when Uncle Scrooge asked if he wanted mustard with his hat," Donald laughed.

The children laughed.

"Did he actually eat it?" Webby asked.

"Started chomping on it as we sailed his boat back to shore," Donald replied.

"Now as it turned out, that coin I had wasn't unique," Scrooge said, "I found out tales of another man who passed through Ronguay with one, heading deeper into the continent. So we packed our bags and went out looking, this time with a more reliable pilot, Thaddeus McQuack."

"Any relation to Launchpad?" asked Dewey.

"His father, actually," Mrs. Beakley spoke up, "One of the reasons for Launchpad's hiring was as a favor to an old friend."

"We managed to find an isolated mountain tribe, where the man in question, Joaquin Slowly, had used his possession of the coin to trick the superstitious tribe into making him an important priest to their worship of the Golden Sun," Scrooge continued, "The coin he had was a family heirloom, and I was able to trade mine for half of a map to an even bigger treasure. Joaquin tried to betray us, but we escaped."

"I saw what happened as we flew off," Donald said, "He lost both his coins over the side of a cliff. Probably lost his position, too. Karma in my opinion."

"But he did tell us that family legend had the other half of the map hidden away in 'the land of eternal winter' amongst one of the native tribes. Deciding that meant Antarctica, we made a quick supply run and headed there. We found the map, only to be captured by an overzealous penguin tribe. Della managed to slip away, but me, Donald, and Thaddeus were thrown in a prison."

Scrooge started chuckling.

"What happened next was just like your mother. Not only did she use soot to blacken her feathers and coat for a disguise, she also befriended one of the younger penguins, giving the little tyke her purple and blue scarf as a gift. Color was such a rarity down there that little Skittles was fascinated. Della had such a big heart. Next thing we know, the wall of our prison was demolished by a controlled explosion, and Della and Skittles were standing on the other side. They had our gear, stolen from the guard shack, and Della had the biggest manic grin on her face that you could imagine."

"To this day, I still don't know how she improvised an explosive," Donald laughed, "All she did at the time was smile and say 'Della likes big boom.'"

"Kind and crazy clever," Lena chuckled, "I want to be like her when I grow up."

"Me too!" Webby shouted, "She sounds awesome!"

The boys cheered as well.

"My kind of trouble!" Dewey crowed.

"I do wonder how she did it," Huey said ponderously.

Louie just kept laughing.

"We made a break for the plane," Scrooge continued, "Donald and I took care of the guards while Thaddeus and Della prepared for takeoff. We accidently swept Skittles up in our escape, and since we didn't want to land and get potentially captured again, we parachuted her out."

"Rainbow-colored parachute as I recall," Donald said, "She probably loved that."

"So what happened next?" Dewey asked.

"Scrooge got gold fever."

"What?" the children chorused.

"It's a psychosomatic reaction common in treasure hunters," Mrs. Beakley said, "The greed becomes so overpowering that their bodies start to develop physical symptoms. Itchiness, hiccups, that sort of thing. The more dangerous is the loss of perspective. Gold fever sufferers get such obsession for gold that they lose sight of everything around them, including people."

"Which brings me to my original point on too much focus on the prize," Scrooge said, "As we made our way down the Quacka-Whacka River, I got more and more focused on the prize. There were gators and dangerous currents down the river, deadly creatures in the jungle, but I barely noticed them."

"We did," Donald interjected, "I still have a scar on my ankle from where I barely escaped a gator's maw."

"When we got to the Temple of the Golden Suns, resting in a bowl inside a mountain, we found the skeletons of explorers who succumbed to gold fever to such a degree that they made fatal mistakes. We all nearly joined those poor souls. El Capitán technically did."

"He followed you there?" asked Lena.

"Never figured out how. But he was eager to take the treasure for himself, one he'd been hunting for for nearly a hundred years. You see, the more doors were opened in the temple, leading to veritable mountains of gold, the more outer doors closed, sealing away anyone trying to take the gold. We were stuck inside with El Capitán, and he didn't care. That lunatic lowered us down a well in the center of the temple, intending to kill us and take all the gold for himself. Judging from the waves of heat coming from it, we had all thought it led to some kind of magma chamber, that the temple had been built atop a volcano. In actuality, it was a lake of molten gold!"

"It was a real sight," Donald said, taking in the stunned expressions on the children, "And then this lunatic started swinging the bucket around in excitement, screaming about how this was the real treasure of the Golden Suns."

"There was more gold down there than in all the other rooms combined!" Scrooge said defensively.

"That doesn't excuse that you nearly tipped us over into the soup! If El Capitán hadn't heard you whooping it up and got just as greedy, we might have died. He pulled us up and the two of you went at it."

"In the chaos, another trap was set off, and the temple began to collapse. If it weren't for Donald and Della's quick hands, I might have fallen through the collapsing floor into the molten gold below. Thaddeus came in at the last second and air-lifted us all out, just as the Temple of the Golden Suns sank into the earth. Every scrap of gold was buried under a million tons of dirt."

"Nearly losing our lives seemed to snap Scrooge out of it, but El Capitán was so desperate for the gold that he jumped out of the plane, screaming that he'd dig up the gold. We ended up leaving him there, trying to dig into a mountain with his bare hands."

"Yikes," Lena and Webby chorused.

"Hey guys, if I ever get that bad, you're free to smack me," Louie told his brothers.

"Deal," they replied.

The dinner ended soon after, with everyone going their separate ways. The boys especially seemed inspired by the story, chatting about their mother's role in it all.

Later, Dewey dug up the duffel bag he and his brothers had found in Castle McDuck. From it, he extracted a light blue scarf, wrapping it around his neck. He lifted one end and rubbed it against his cheek, closing his eyes and imagining.

"We'll be there soon, Mom…"

 **oOo**

The next day, Mrs. Beakley drove Lena to her appointment. The two sat in the waiting room. Bentina looked up from the magazine she was idly perusing, checking on Lena. The teen was slightly hunched, her hands folded tightly in her lap.

"Nervous?"

"A little," Lena replied.

"Just remember, he's here to help you. Dr. Van Horn is an excellent psychiatrist, and he comes highly recommended."

The door to the waiting room opened, revealing a moose.

"Lena Le Strange?" he asked.

Lena got up out of her seat.

"I'm Dr. Van Horn. Please, right this way."

The doctor's office was about what Lena expected. There was a bookshelf full of psychology books. There was a white board for some people to better express their speech with art, or just for use as a therapy tool. A nice armchair sat opposite a striped sofa, rather than the black leather couch Lena expected.

What took her by surprise was a basket was in one corner, filled with stuffed animals.

"What's with the fluffy zoo?" she asked.

"Sympathetic ears," Dr. Van Horn said, "Some children are more likely to talk to a stuffed animal about certain things, let them serve as a sounding board for things they wouldn't tell others. I've also used them in role play."

The two sat down.

"Now let me start with a statement that you've probably heard before, but it bears repeating. Whatever we discuss in here is held in the strictest confidence. Unless you give me permission to tell your family about certain things, it doesn't leave this room. It's just you, me, and the plush toys in here. What happens on the couch stays on the couch. The only exception is if you tell me or infer that you intend to hurt someone else, or yourself. In which case I have a legal and moral obligation to act."

"That's fair."

"Now, Mr. McDuck and Mrs. Beakley have already given me the broad strokes of your situation, Lena. Odd magic stuff aside, it seems you were in an abusive relationship. Tell me about that…"

Lena took a deep breath and began to talk. She told herself that this would help.

And strangely, it did. She'd already told much of this to Webby, but something about telling the doctor felt a bit liberating.

"I was probably about five or six when Magica first appeared. She told me she was my relative, and that she wanted to help me. I'd already spent a few months in that orphanage, and I was miserable. I missed my mom so badly, and here was this funny shadow lady who told jokes and said she wanted me…"

She described how Magica helped her escape from the orphanage, guiding her as she traveled to an old castle. There was where Magica first taught her magic. It was a wonderous time as Lena learned about what she could do.

And then came the night when Magica told her of the long feud their family had with the Clan McDuck. How bad turns of fate and curses from the De Spells had slowly ground the family into poverty, but how the last son of the clan had risen above to become the richest duck in the world. How Magica fought him to finally end the feud and free her family line from the weight of it all. How it ended with her power stolen and her body reduced to a living shadow.

"And then she told me about a special bond, like one between teacher and pupil. She'd already shown me so much, about my powers and my family history. I thought she cared…but it was all a lie. The second the ritual was done, she crowed about how I belonged to her. All the warmth went away. She never told me she loved me again. It became all about the work, the blood feud, the vengeance. Everything I had come to love turned to darkness and pain. She treated me like dirt, like a tool."

Lena paused, twisting her fingers together.

"The first time I tried to run away, she popped up right behind me while I was a few yards away from the castle. She told me how we were bound together, how I couldn't run away from my own shadow. That was the day she first exerted her control over me. It was like my limbs were being pulled by chains. I was a puppet on a string as she walked me back into the castle. I still tried to run away a week later. This time, instead of marching me back into the castle and leaving it at that, she made me lock myself in a room. She told me that this was my punishment, then fell silent. I spent a week alone in the dark until a crow we'd trained together unlocked the door. From then on, whenever I disobeyed, she'd use her control to make me punish myself. Sometimes it was hitting myself, sometimes it was the room."

She paused again, looking up at the doctor. He gave her a sympathetic look, urging her to go on.

"I've never told anyone this next part…"

"I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to."

"A year after that, I tried to take a knife to my wrist. I was low, I didn't see a way out. I had this thought that I missed my mother. So I decided to try and join her, escape the only way I knew how. Magica stopped me."

Lena clutched her left wrist. Beneath the feathers, invisible unless you knew where to look, was a thin scar.

"She offered me a deal that day. I help her get her power back, and then she'd set me free. I get the dime, and then I'd never have to see her again."

"Thank you for telling me. That was very brave."

"Doesn't feel brave. I tried to kill myself, but failed."

"There's no shame in failing, especially at that. And there's no shame in admitting what you did. What matters is that you don't do it again. Choosing life is always the right choice."

Lena was silent. Dr. Van Horn made a note to come back to the subject at a later date, when Lena felt more comfortable with him to talk about it.

"So what happened next?"

"After a few years, I snuck onto a train bound for Duckburg…"

Lena described living on the streets of Duckburg. How she used her magic to steal food and personal things. How she made up a little room beneath an old amphitheater to live in. How she scouted Scrooge McDuck, trying to figure out how to get at his Number One Dime.

Then they had seen a news report in an electronics store window, of Scrooge bringing family to live with him at his mansion, including three boys.

And that led to meeting Webby.

"For the first time ever, I had a friend. She became my escape. I kept telling Magica that the hanging out and the sleepovers I had with her were about gathering intelligence, playing the long game. Really, I just wanted it to never end. I knew that the second I stole the dime and unleashed Magica, I'd never be forgiven. So I stalled for as long as I could. Until one day, I realized that I cared about Webby. That I wasn't pretending to be her friend, I probably hadn't been since day one. That I valued our friendship more than I thought I did. Magica had this plan with a shark-shaped golem, and I wrecked it so save Webby. Magica was furious. I tried to walk away, but she dragged me back. But for the first time in a long time, I had something besides that witch in my life, and I never wanted to lose that. I wanted to fight for it, fight for _her_."

Then Lena spoke of the Nightmare Catcher, tearing up as she did so. But she powered through, talking about how she fully realized in that moment how far she would go for Webby, that letting it end on Magica's terms was something she could not bear. How when she was about to throw away the shadow of the blood feud, there came the final possession, the sick feeling of Magica's essence invading her body. She spoke of Magica walking them into a trap that ripped them apart. Of Lena being free of her after years of torment.

Dr. Van Horn asked a few more questions after that. About her home life now, about what she enjoyed. About Webby, who Lena described as loving like the sister she always wanted.

"Light of my life, that girl. If I'd never met her, I don't think I would have ever recovered."

A few more questions were asked, but finally, the doctor claimed that their session was nearly at an end.

"Until we meet again, I want you to do a few things."

He gave her a few mental exercises to try out. Little things like repeating to herself that she was worth it, that her past did not define her, and that she was not responsible for anything Magica did.

"You never were, you never will be."

He also encouraged her to keep up with magic, saying that it might prove therapeutic considering her thoughts on it.

"Some people use art to calm their anxieties. Some use writing. Given that promise you claim to have made to be better than _her_ , I believe that researching and practicing magic will be beneficial to your mental health."

"I'd thought of that," Lena replied.

As they left, Lena voiced the opinion that the doctor was a lot more blunt than she thought he'd be.

"I figured you'd be one of those 'Doctor Feel Good' types of guys."

"There are plenty of those in my profession. Me, I'm of the opinion that there's no reason anyone should walk a mile barefoot on Legos when so many problems could be solved by just sitting down and talking. That's my opinion on most psychological issues…and war, but that's a different story. You could go through all the rigamarole and ' _drama'_ of deep dark secrets, or you can go and do what you were going to have to do from the beginning: _sit down and talk._ "

Lena left the office with a laugh. She felt strung out, but there was a confidence in her. She thought this might actually work.

 **oOo**

Scrooge entered an old bunker, settling himself before the necessary equipment. He fought down the bitter feeling in his throat and the wetness in his eyes as he remembered the last time he'd sat in this chair.

When Project Selene was dismantled, most of the assets were sold to recoup some losses. He'd discreetly contacted several of those buyers and explained the situation. Most of them were sympathetic, and with Scrooge putting up some of the costs himself, work was started to build another rocket.

But before construction would start, Scrooge wanted to beam up one more message…

"It's ready, Mr. McDuck," said one of the techs, "Just hold down the button and we can record it, then fire it off in the direction you provided."

"Thank you for this," Scrooge said, his voice thick.

Scrooge took a deep breath to steady himself, then began to record.

"Della, it's Scrooge. It took us a long time to find you, but we can explain why later. Just know that we're coming…your uncle's coming, Spitfire. So's your brother…and your sons. We're coming for you, just hold tight a little longer…"

 **oOo**

"… _and your sons. We're coming for you, just hold tight a little longer…"_

The duck put her hand to her beak, trying in vain to hold back the sobs working their way up her throat.

"Sons…"

She reached up to lift her goggles out of her eyes, preventing them from getting wet as tears came forth.

"They were boys…"

Della Duck leaned back against the metal wall behind her, letting herself go. She slumped to the ground, tears streaming down her face and relieved sobs wracking her frame.

"I'm going home…I'm going to see my boys…"

* * *

 _Lena's a fan of Voltaire. Because._

 _Also, if Scrooge and Donald's story seems familiar, it's because it's basically the first five episodes of the original Ducktales show. I changed a few details so that instead of the boys and Webby, it was Donald and Della._

 _Also also, Dr. Van Horn is named after William Van Horn, an artist/writer who has worked on Uncle Scrooge comics since 1988. Naming the doctor after Carl Barks or Don Rosa seemed a bit too on the nose._

 _Also also also, HI DELLA! SEE YOU IN A FEW CHAPTERS!_


	7. Intruder Alert!

_This took a bit to write compared to previous chapters, and it serves as a little intermediate adventure before we get to the payoff of the Hand of Phobos._

* * *

 **Freedom from Fear**

Chapter 7

Intruder Alert!

"There you go, Mr. McDuck," the workman said, "The adjustments you asked for are done."

"Fantastic," Scrooge said, "That check clear?"

"Talked to the boss before I came. I just need you to sign something and I'll be out of your feathers."

Scrooge signed on the dotted line, a standard service agreement that, in his haste to deal with the upgrades to the mansion's security system, he'd neglected to get to before.

"Pleasure doing business with you, sir."

Scrooge watched the workman go. As he did, he got a sudden uneasy feeling.

"No, don't be daft," he told himself, shaking his head, "That's why I got the upgrades. The system will be able to handle any intruders that want to hurt my family, be it Glomgold, the Beagle Boys, Magica De Spell, or what have you. For everything else, I've got Duckworth, Beakley, and bullets."

Unbeknownst to Scrooge, the workman stopped a mile away from McDuck Manor, leaning out of his truck and giving an envelope to stranger in a trench coat.

"Here, I did your dirty work. Now leave my family alone."

"You don't have to worry, pal," the stranger said, "Ma'll keep her word. Just so long as you made those adjustments Brainy told you-"

"I did."

"Then you got nothing to worry about! Go home, enjoy yourself. Your part's done."

The workman drove off, feeling like dirt. The stranger smiled grimly.

"Let's see how prepared you really are, McDuck…"

 **oOo**

"So the new system makes locking down the house easier to do, and it better networks the security bots," Scrooge said.

"Hopefully, the new droids won't go the way of the last one," Dewey said, looking pointedly at Webby.

"What happened to the last one?" asked Lena.

"I'll tell you later," Webby said.

"I'm surprised you made the upgrades," Donald said, "The system you had was already really good."

"Yes, a DT-87 is a tough bird, but it's an old model. They're phasing out replacement parts for it," Scrooge said, "It was upgrade now or pay the price later."

"And they finally finished today?" Huey asked, "It's been nuts with those workmen coming in and out."

"Today was when the last man did the final tests. We should be safe for the foreseeable future."

Later on, they would curse that comment as an engraved invitation to Murphy.

 **oOo**

"We all set up, Brainy?"

"You bet, Ma," the squat Beagle said, "The backdoor's been installed, and I have a map of all the vulnerabilities. It's just a matter of manipulating the right bits of code, thus invalidating the lockdown procedures and inserting my own algorithms into the robots' central processors, diverting their identification systems to read friend as foe and vice versa."

"Say it in Beagle talk!" Ma Beagle snapped.

"I got control of the system, so I can lock them in and make the robots do what I want."

"Why didn't you say that before?"

"I did!"

"Don't talk back to your Ma! Do your thing, I need to rally the troops."

As Ma left, Brainy Beagle grumbled. He was a technical wizard, but it was so hard to find people who could talk in his level.

He tried Silicon Valley, but found himself drowning in pretention.

So here is was, working his services as a hacker to anyone who would pay, and doing odd jobs for the family when he could. Not that he didn't like being a black hat hacker, but he just wished his family weren't so…uncivilized.

Holding in a sigh, he turned back to his computer and started typing commands. Stage one, prevent the inhabitants of McDuck Manor from getting any help…

 **oOo**

It started that night. It started very simply. It started with the lights going out.

Webby and Lena were in the former's room playing a board game. The sudden darkness made them jump. Lena reached for Webby in the dark, an uneasy feeling growing in the pit of her stomach.

"That's odd," Webby said, "The mansion has a back-up generator."

"I think you're missing the point, Webby," Lena said nervously, "Blackouts usually happen because of a storm or something. But it's a clear night. There's no reason it should have been off in the first place. Hang on a second…"

Lena muttered something, calling upon will-o-wisps. A greenish glow rose from her hands, scattering around the room like fireflies.

"That is cool!" Webby squealed, "It's so pretty!"

"It won't last long, though. You got any flashlights in here?"

"One flashlight, a couple glowsticks, and a pair of night vision goggles."

"Night vi—never mind, forgot who I was talking to. Let's grab them and go find out what happened."

Webby dug through a drawer, tossing Lena two glowsticks and a ball of string before searching for a flashlight and her goggles. Lena cracked them to get them glowing and swiftly tied a string on each, making simple necklaces. She slipped hers on just as Webby came back with a flashlight, the goggles perched on her head and ready to use.

"I really need to organize this room, fetching these took longer than I thought."

"Project for the morning," Lena said, taking the flashlight.

She took a minute to relish the light, letting it banish the shadows of the room. Even after over a month as a member of the family and several therapy sessions, her fear of the dark still haunted her.

The two crept out of Webby's room. Lena swept her flashlight to and fro, but the hallway was empty.

"This is getting spooky," Lena said.

"Granny! Uncle Scrooge! Is anyone out there?" Webby yelled.

"It's a big house, Pink, I don't know if-"

A whirring sounded from around the corner, and a circular form rounded it, propeller arms keeping it aloft in the air.

"Hey, the cute security bot! Where's everyone at, little guy?" Webby asked.

But the robot's large eyes glowed a menacing red in response.

" _Intruders detected. Initialing capture protocols._ "

"Wait, what?"

A panel opened on the robot's body, and a bit of machinery glowed ominously.

Lena tackled Webby to the ground as a ball of electricity shot over them. She flung out her hand, and a ripple shot through the air, slamming into the robot and sending it spinning.

Lena shook her hand a bit, wincing, before pulling Webby to her feet.

"We should run now."

The robot rose back up.

"Yes we should," Webby agreed.

As they ran, Webby spoke a mile a minute.

"What is going on? The system upgrades are brand-new, and they've been tested. They should not be screwing up this bad! What are we going to do? Where is everyone? What was that thing you did?"

"I don't know, I wish I knew, they could be anywhere in the mansion, and it's a force-bolt. I can't do a decent one without a focus, but I'll be able to stun any robot that gets too close to us."

They turned a corner and smacked into a large body. The form turned and grinned menacingly.

"Well, look what we have here," Bouncer Beagle chuckled.

"What about him?" Webby asked.

Lena didn't answer, she just put her hands together. A ripple hit Bouncer, but he barely grunted.

"Was that supposed to do something?" he asked.

"Aw, pluck me," Lena groaned.

He lunged, and the two girls scrambled out of the way. Webby kicked off the wall and attacked his knees, but a sweep of his arms knocked her away.

Webby hit the wall with a loud thud, groaning in pain.

"Just ain't your night, pipsqueak," Bouncer said, looming over her.

"GET AWAY FROM HER!"

With a great cry, a blast of power sent Bouncer flying down the hall. Lena halfway collapsed the second the spell was loosed, groaning.

"Too much…"

Webby struggled to her feet and pulled Lena's arm over her shoulders.

"We have to get out of here," she said, flicking her night vision goggles down, "That Beagle Boy proves the system's been compromised. Who knows who's still standing and who's been captured."

The two girls lurched down the hallway. Webby had hurt her arm during the encounter, and Lena was exhausted from trying to force the spell, so it was slower going than they would have liked.

"We should stop," Lena said, "Find someplace to hunker down and get our strength back."

Before Webby could answer, there was a metallic screech. From around one corner, a security bot fell, a cane wedged in one of its eyes. The other eye dimmed to nothing, and Scrooge came into view, retrieving his cane.

"Blasted bucket of bolts. Waste of good money."

"Uncle Scrooge!"

"Webby? Lena? Curse me kilts, what happened to you two?"

"Beagle Boy. Mansion's been invaded," Lena said, "Webby got hurt and I did too much without a focus."

Scrooge quickly got on Lena's other side, sharing the load.

"Come on, then. Let's find a defensible position. There's a room nearby with a few rifles. That should do."

They walked for a bit when Lena started grumbling.

"Lena? You okay?" Webby asked.

"Aside from having to be carried like a child and being useless in helping us, I'm fine."

"You're not useless!"

"Whatever magic I can do that could be helpful is out of my reach! I used to at least be able to take care of myself, now I can barely defend myself!"

"Aye, it's hard to feel helpless. To have to come to grips with the fact that there are some things you just can't do anymore."

The girls looked at Scrooge in response to this, and he chuckled a bit.

"Maybe you lasses have forgotten, but I'm old. I'm a lot spryer than I reasonably should be—"

"And how," Webby interjected.

"But that doesn't mean there aren't a few things I can't do that I used to be able to. I have to watch my cholesterol, for example, so some food is beyond me. I stared so long into the snowy plains and sunny skies of Montana and the Yukon that it ruined my eyesight. I needed glasses before I was forty. And I can hardly get away with the same hard fighting and stunts I did in my youth. If I do, my old bones will punish me for it later."

Scrooge looked at Lena with fire in his eye.

"But I've never let any of that stop me. What I did do was keep in mind a valuable lesson: it's not what you have, it's what you do with it. You think I got to where I am by biting off the biggest bite I could all the time? Nah lass, I used my wits before I ever made a move. It's about doing a lot with only a little. Fight smarter, not harder."

Lena rolled that thought around in her head. And then she remembered…

" _But I want to learn how to do the cool stuff! Fire and lightning and ice!"_

" _Which you can't do until you learn this," Magica replied harshly, "Lena, you're just starting magic. Now, even with a focus, your own reserves are very small. Even if you did manage to call down some lightning, you'd have used so much magic in one stroke that you'd pass out from the strain. These spells are parlor tricks, but they'll provide the foundation for the big stuff. Think of it as level one. You need to work your way up first."_

Lena had spent so much time using her focus exclusively that, now that she was without it, she could not accomplish the same feats as before. She just couldn't channel her power properly for the big stuff.

But running through her mind now was a series of spells. Minor jinxes, charms, and cantrips that used little power. Level one stuff, the things she learned more to feel how her magic flowed than as anything actually useful.

But with the right application…

"There's the old man!"

The three spun their heads around, spotting Bigtime and Burger Beagle coming up the nearby stairs.

"Oh, and then there's these guys," Webby muttered.

Scrooge stood in front of the girls defensively, his cane raised like a sword.

"Don't come any closer!"

"I'm sorry, I must have missed the part where you're the boss here," Bigtime said, cracking his knuckles.

"I got an idea," Lena whispered, "Hang on a second…"

Her hands glowed, and a bolt of energy shot forth. The Beagle Boys flinched, but the bolt hit the ground.

"Ha! You missed!" Bigtime said, taking a step forward…

Only for his feet to fly out from beneath him, sending him flat on his back.

"Wasn't aiming at you," Lena smirked.

"Nice one, Lena!" Webby said.

"And it didn't cost much magic either. Just like this."

She snapped her fingers and smiled evilly at Burger. It took him a second, but then he began smelling smoke. And then he realized that his head was feeling warm…

"Burger, you idiot! Your hat's on fire!" Bigtime shouted from his prone position.

Burger reacted blindly, whipping about in his quest to get his burning hat off. The floor beneath him, still frictionless thanks to Lena's spell, made his actions take the logical outcome. While he got his hat off, he also slid backward and fell down the stairs. Every thump was accompanied by an echoing yelp of pain.

"Let's scram," Scrooge said, lifting Lena back up and leading the charge down the hall.

It took Bigtime a minute to wrench his way off the slick part of the floor, but he finally rose to his feet. He took a few shaky steps, and upon realizing he was fine, grinned and chased after the ducks.

"When I get my hands on you, goth kid, I'm going to wring your neck!"

He turned the corner sharply, and spotted Webby blowing a raspberry from an open door. He angrily rushed forward…

And slammed into the wall. Webby and the door vanished like morning dew, leaving the Beagle to slide bonelessly to the ground with a stupefied look on his face.

The real Webby poked her head out of the adjacent door, giggling.

"And here I thought that sort of thing only worked in cartoons."

"Get back in here!" Lena hissed, "I don't have enough juice for another illusion so soon!"

Webby squeaked and ducked back into the room, locking the door.

"So what now?" she asked.

In response, Scrooge cocked a rifle.

"Now we wait out the storm and hope Beakley managed to call for help. She was going to do that while I looked for you kids."

 **oOo**

"Laser test seven," Gyro Gearloose muttered.

The laser popped out of a panel on the Gizmoduck gauntlet he and Fenton were working on. It disgorged a potent shot, and the steel panel they were aiming at flew off its platform.

"Not bad," Fenton said, inspecting the target, "No holes this time. Should be good for a nonlethal concussive blast."

"Power output is nominal, and should cause no permanent damage," Gyro said aloud as he consulted the computer the gauntlet was hooked up to, "Cooling appears good. Retraction…"

The laser disappeared back into the gauntlet.

"Excellent. I think we cracked it."

"Glad we finally finished that," Fenton said, "Building the blaster itself took longer than the integration into the suit. Guess all that's left is a field test."

"Which can be done tomorrow," Gyro said, "It's late. Even Manny conked out earlier, and do you know how little he sleeps? It's one of his better qualities in my opin—"

The phone suddenly rang, and Gyro picked it up.

"Gearloose, can you just call in the morning? It's too late for busin-"

" _Shut up, Gyro! We need you down at McDuck Manor!_ " came Mrs. Beakley's voice, " _The security system's been compromised and we need back-up NOW!_ "

The force of the shout made Gyro fumble with the phone, and even Fenton heard it from his position.

"Beakley? What's going on?"

" _The robots are haywire, the mansion's been sealed, and we're crawling with Beagle Boys! Whatever help you can give, get down here and-"_

The phone suddenly cut out, and Gyro looked at Fenton with worry.

"I presume you heard that?"

"Hard not to," Fenton said as he disconnected the gauntlet from the sensors, "Someone must have hacked the security systems during the refit."

"I told Mr. McDuck he should have let me go over it," Gyro groused as he stuffed a laptop into a bag, "I'll need to initiate a hard reset of the system, and I'll have to do it at the source. Get your game face on, Crackshell. It looks like we're field-testing that laser now rather than later."

"I'll take the Beagles, you take the hacker. _Blathering blatherskite!_ "

The various parts of the Gizmoduck suit came to life and latched onto Fenton. It took him a second as the suit interfaced with his brain.

"Woof! Dr. Gearloose, maybe next we ought to look into the neural interface. It's still kind of painful when it first boots up."

"It's linking your neural pathways to whole new systems, I don't think the brief pain is going to change any time soon," Gyro said, "Regardless, we need to be at McDuck Manor five minutes ago and…hmm, maybe I should look into time travel again…"

Fenton loudly cleared his throat.

"Right, right, science later, cavalry now."

The Gizmoduck suit's flight attachments got them to McDuck Manor quickly. After swiftly dealing with the two large Beagle Boys guarding the front via his new concussive blaster, Gizmoduck slashed the tires of their getaway vehicles.

"Okay, they won't be going anywhere," he said, "When the cops come, anyone that hasn't been knocked out will have to escape on foot."

"I'm jacking into the system via my personal backdoor," Gyro said, getting out his laptop.

"You have a personal backdoor into the security system?" Fenton asked.

"I'm paranoid about my boss. I'll apologize later."

Gyro rapidly typed some commands, then swore.

"Someone threw a party in here. And I know who. Brainy Beagle, one of the smarter members of the family. I recognize his work."

"Can you undo it?"

"Yes, but I'll need to plug directly into the system to initiate a hard reset, just as I suspected. And even then, he'll probably be fighting my efforts every step of the way. It'll take time."

"Then you do that, I'll see what I can do to stop the Beagle Boys themselves."

Gizmoduck charged through the doors, his sheer bulk and powerful mechanical muscles easily breaking through the locks. Gyro followed form a safe distance, pushing aside the portrait covering the DT-87 system and plugging in.

"To war, young Brainy," he muttered.

Gizmoduck, meanwhile, used his suit's sensors to locate the sound of combat, and rushed toward it.

It actually took him back for a moment. Several Beagle Boys (he'd researched the various groups and recognized the 6th Avenue Friendlies and 6th Avenue Meanies) and a trio of hacked security robots had cornered Mrs. Beakley, Donald, and what appeared to be a shadowy ghost with a demonic cow skull for a head. The triplets were huddled in one corner, Beakley standing before them and emanating the deadly nature of a protective lioness. The ghost was giving the robots the runaround and Donald…

Was using a broken robot as a bludgeon to beat down two of the Meanies. It was actually kind of scary to watch him beat someone twice his size to a pulp using a weapon as big as he was with no effort.

"YOU! DON'T! TOUCH! MY! BOYS!"

Spotting the third Meanie closing in, Gizmoduck armed his concussion blaster and fired, sending him out a window.

"There's no need to fear, GIZMODUCK is here!"

"Oh darn," said the head Friendly.

Gizmoduck rushed forward, barreling into the Friendlies like a linebacker and sending them scattering. He then spun around and used a finger laser to take out one of the active robots. The ghost quickly joined in, reaching into the chassis of the second as it turned to face the new threat and ripping out several wires.

Donald picked up the smallest Meanie and threw his unconscious body into the third robot.

"About time someone got here," Beakley said as she beat down lone conscious Friendly.

With the threat gone, Huey ran forward to hug the mechanical hero.

"The hero is here to save us!" he cried.

"I hope you brought more than just you," Louie said, "This house is crazy!"

"Dr. Gearloose is trying to retake the system," Gizmoduck said, "He's in the foyer."

"Then I'll back him up," said Donald, "I need to get the boys to safety."

The ghost spun and morphed into a new shape, that of a prim butler.

"There is still the matter of Master Scrooge and the girls," he said.

"As well as any other Beagles in the house, yes I know," Beakley said, "You, me, and Gizmoduck will handle that. Let's go."

 **oOo**

Webby and Lena hid behind an upturned table while Scrooge braced his chosen rifle atop it. The banging on the door had reached a fever pitch.

The hacked robot burst in, splinters of wood flying everywhere. Scrooge gave it a faceful of buckshot, and it slammed into the wall, propellers sputtering.

Ma Beagle entered next, a double-barreled shotgun in her hand.

"Glad I let it go first."

She fired on Scrooge, forcing him to hid behind the table. Thankfully, it was very strong wood, and resisted the bullets.

"Are you daft, woman? There are children here!" Scrooge shouted.

"Then you'll be a lot more careful of friendly fire, then?" Ma Beagle said, "I've been planning this little heist for a while now. I got Beagle Boys stuffing sacks with all sorts of valuables, and more rounding up your little gang to ransom you back to your company. With your own system, it'll be a piece of cake keeping the cops off us long enough to make sure we'll be escaping with our payday."

Scrooge growled.

"You won't get away with this!" Webby cried out.

"I think I will be. Now-"

A metal hand reached into the room on a telescoping arm, ripping the gun away from Ma Beagle and using it to slam her into the wall. Lena popped up and threw a blast of yellow light at her.

"What the heck?" Ma Beagle cried, finding that she couldn't move away from the wall.

"Simple sticking charm," Lena said, "Although it did put some extra oomph into it."

Ma Beagle glowered at her, muttering her hatred of magic.

"I don't know," Scrooge said, putting a hand on Lena's shoulder, "I'm finding that it has its uses."

Lena smiled and leaned into the touch, partly out of a feeling of warmth and partly from exhaustion.

Gizmoduck entered the room, looking at the stuck Ma Beagle with interest.

"Note to self, develop glue cannon for suit," he muttered.

The security bot rose back up, and Gizmoduck stood protectively between it and the others. However, its red eyes dimmed back to blue, and it soon landed smoothly, shutting down.

Gizmoduck breathed a sigh of relief.

"He did it."

 **oOo**

Back in the foyer, Gyro Gearloose let out a harsh breath.

"I'll admit, that was more effort than I thought. I salute my worthy opponent."

The two robots that accompanied the Glam Yankees powered down, and they looked from them to the grim-faced Donald warily.

Donald cracked his knuckles.

"You guys should probably run," Dewey said.

Realizing that the plan had fallen apart, they took his advice.

They rushed out to a van on the edge of the driveway, finding the tires slashed and Brainy Beagle cursing up a storm.

And then they heard sirens, so they dashed into the forest.

 **oOo**

The next morning, clean-up began. Lena listened fondly as Webby and the boys exchanged stories over gathering up robot parts.

"And you should have seen Lena! She took out two Beagle Boys with a prank spell and a tiny fireball!"

"Well Duckworth was awesome," Louie replied, "The second he went all demon butler, I thought that one guy was going to pee his pants!"

Privately, Lena was glad she'd missed that part. It had been described to her what Duckworth's more intimidating form looked like, and it sounded like a PTSD trigger waiting to happen. She already got uneasy around duck dolls, she didn't need to be afraid of the friendly ghost butler.

"Well Uncle Donald was the most awesome," Dewey said, "He used one of the robots as a bat and beat up two of the Beagle Boys. They had to carry them out on stretchers!"

"Beware the nice ones," Lena muttered.

They went to the foyer to drop off the parts in a bin. Gyro had said he'd repair the broken robots. They found the genius pouring over the security system with Fenton and talking with Scrooge and Beakley.

"Sir, from now on, _I_ do the upgrades to the security systems, or at least double-check them. I'd rather prevent a hostile takeover from happening in the first place than beat it back while it's going on."

"Fair enough, Gyro," Scrooge said.

"Sheesh, this software's a mess," Fenton grumbled, typing away at Gyro's connected laptop, "I've already found five vulnerabilities and closed two possible backdoors. It might be easier to start from scratch!"

"Maybe next time, we go easy in the robots then," Beakley said.

"Speaking of robots, I think that's the last of them," Huey said as they dumped armfuls of parts into the bin.

"Great, I'll wheel that out to my van in a minute," Gyro said, "I'd like to close the holes in this before working on the robots."

"Do what you can, Gyro. I have confidence in you," Scrooge said, "How are you kids doing this morning?"

"My arm still hurts a bit, but I'm fine," Webby said.

"Much better now that I've had some rest," Lena said, "I'm kind of eager to get back to the search for the Hand."

"Still focused, lass?"

"It could be used as a magical focus, one I need. I know we had that conversation last night about working smarter not harder, and I'm all for some trickery, using my magic creatively…but I at least want the option to blast things too. Be direct, you know?"

"Well, to be fair, there was this one time I just shot a punk in the knee instead of getting into a prolonged sword fight," Scrooge shrugged.

"The Junior Woodchucks have a saying: having the right tools on hand means less headaches down the line," Huey said, "If she can use the Hand as a focus, then that just opens up her options, right?"

"Don't use an ace if a two will do, but just having the ace is still good," Louie added.

"That's my thought process," Lena replied.

There was a knock on the front door, which Lena had repaired the second the Beagle Boys had been taken away. Everyone stiffened, and Scrooge answered it hesitantly. He only relaxed upon seeing that it was a simple delivery boy.

"I have package for Scrooge McDuck. Special courier service."

"Ah, yes, I was expecting you any day."

"I would have been here yesterday evening, but there was a snafu down at the office," the teen said producing a clipboard, "Sign here, please."

Scrooge signed his name with a flourish and took the large envelope.

"You have a good morning, Mr. McDuck."

"I think it will be."

After Scrooge closed the door, he asked to talk to Lena privately. They entered a parlor off to the side and Scrooge gave her the envelope.

"I think after last night, we could use some good news," he said, smiling, "Open it."

Lena did, giving him an odd look. When she read the papers inside, her jaw dropped.

They were custody papers, granting Scrooge McDuck guardianship over Lena Le Strange.

Lena ran her finger over the paper, reading over the words several times, just to assure herself that this was real. In her hand was physical proof that someone wanted her, that she had a home and a family.

The feeling was indescribable.

A choked laugh bubbled up from her throat. Tears of joy began to leak from her eyes, and she threw her arms around Scrooge.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" she babbled.

"You're family now, Lena," he said, hugging her back, "Welcome home."

* * *

 _Brainy Beagle is partly based on a similar character from the old Ducktales show. Megabyte Beagle was a technical genius, and actually hacked into the Gizmoduck suit and made up a remote control for it. I decided to change his name because it seemed odd that he was the only Beagle Boy who didn't have an alliterative name._


	8. The Witch of the Iron Forest

_Part one of the adventure to gain the Hand of Phobos…_

 _In which Lena faces a legendary obstacle in the quest…_

* * *

 **Freedom from Fear**

Chapter 8

The Witch of the Iron Forest

They'd finally found a trail.

Scrooge, Lena, and Webby poured over the books in excitement, reading about an ancient cult dedicated to the worship of Phobos. The writings described a disk created by the cult, a map to a hidden temple built by them. The disk was referred to as a 'key to the hollowed House of Fear'.

This information they had discovered earlier. But this old journal described the cult falling to the greater influence of Sparta, many of their relics falling into the hands of traders. And this copy of an old manifest found in preserved tubes beneath Sparta told of the disk being sold to another band travelling north.

The trail kept going, passing from Greek hands to Macedonian hands, and on and on, until reaching Slavic traders. There, the disk was bought by a wealthy merchant.

But there, the trail went cold. They found the name of the merchant among a centuries-old missing persons report. He and his whole family disappeared one night. The only clue was strange tracks found around his house.

Upon reading the description of the tracks, Lena groaned like she'd lost a chance at a million dollars.

"Well, if there was anything down that rabbit hole, it's a dead end. If we follow it, we're hosed."

"What? Why?" asked Webby.

"Artifact related to magic gets bought by a wealthy merchant in Eastern Europe? Whole family goes missing? Tracks that seemed to have been made by a giant chicken? It adds up to one thing: this guy pissed off the wrong witch."

Lena sighed heavily.

"We're dealing with Baba Yaga."

Scrooge made a choking sound. Webby froze.

"We're boned," she whispered.

 **oOo**

The story made its way to the dinner table that night. Lena was sullen, and the triplets didn't understand why.

"What's so bad about this Baba Yaga person, anyway?" Louie asked, "And what kind of name is that?"

"Slavic," Webby said absently.

"Here she is," Huey said, finding an entry in the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook, "Baba Yaga, a powerful witch featured in Slavic folklore-"

"Folklore, HA! That's funny," Lena said suddenly, "Listen to an actual witch, kid. Baba Yaga is as real as I am. And she is without a doubt one of the most dangerous figures you could ever encounter. Abject lesson, if a figure in folklore crops up a lot, you can assume it has basis in fact. Baba Yaga _earned_ her place in the books."

"So she really is that bad," Louie ventured.

"Everything you've heard and more. And the worst part is, if you do encounter her, you'll never know what to expect. Extremely ambiguous motivations. She could help you, giving you sage advice for your heroic journey. Or, she could make you into her next soup."

Huey looked down at his soup, made a face, and pushed the bowl away. Lena continued on.

"And easily too. We're talking about an arch-witch, the same class as Hecate or the Weird Sisters. Her power is legendary, as is her knowledge and cunning."

"I encountered Magica De Spell in Russia once," Scrooge said, "We were both hunting the same artifact. Midway through the confrontation, she stopped, looking toward the horizon as if something got her attention. She uttered the name 'Baba Yaga', then ran like her arse was on fire. And let me tell you, I never saw her more afraid, before or since."

"You're saying _Magica De Spell_ was afraid of this woman?" Beakley asked, shocked.

"For good reason," Lena said, her voice deadly serious, "To mundanes, she is a story. To magical folk, she is spoken of with equal parts respect and fear. If she has that disk, we've lost it."

"Wait, all that work and you're just going to give up?" Dewey asked.

"If you have an idea for facing an obscenely powerful witch, I'd be happy to hear it."

"Aside from asking nicely?" Donald asked, "Lena, I get that you're afraid-"

"You have no idea…"

"Lass, I'm not thrilled about this either, but I still think it's worth a try at least," Scrooge said, "I say we find her, plead our case, and hope there's something we can work out."

Lena just grumbled.

"Just forget it. I don't think there's anything we can do to get it from her, and there's nothing you can say that'll convince me otherwise."

 **oOo**

It took several days for Lena to cave. During that time, the triplets and Scrooge did their best to convince her to at least try.

It was Webby that finally broke her. The duckling she'd come to view as a little sister had worn her down better than the others had.

"Lena, you said the Hand would be our best weapon against Magica. Are you really going to give up when we're so close? Besides, super-legendary witch? Tell me you're not at least curious about what that's about!"

It had taken lots of comments and an extra-large dose of puppy-dog eyes before Lena relented.

"She is too adorable sometimes," Lena had muttered as Webby raced off to tell Scrooge that the trip was on.

Thus the group packed their things and flew to the Ural Mountains in Russia, where they hoped to start their search.

Donald had insisted on going along. He'd heard stories about Baba Yaga, and wanted to go to keep his boys out of trouble. And Webby was attached to Lena's hip most days. This left Scrooge and Donald in charge of four excited children and one wary teen. Five children if one counted Launchpad.

They actually managed to land the Sunchaser without crashing for once, and set up a campsite to use as a base for searching the forests of the Mountains.

It had been a few days of exploring and mapping out the forest. And while there was some awe at the rugged landscape, the lack of results was staring to wear on them.

"I should have expected this," Lena said as she, Webby, and Scrooge picked their way through some undergrowth, "Baba Yaga is supposed to be this crazy powerful witch. Of course she'd figure out how to shield herself from prying eyes."

"Well, if we don't find anything in the next day or so, we'll move on," Scrooge said, "Lot of land to cover."

"I don't mind," Webby piped up, cartwheeling across a fallen tree, "I'm having a blast camping, and Huey's teaching me a lot of Junior Woodchuck tricks."

"That book is ridiculous," Lena groused, "I flipped through it behind his back once. Some of it I expected, but why is information about Columbus and other explorers in what's supposed to be a scout's guidebook?"

"I've learned not to question it too much."

"We should get back to camp," Scrooge said, looking skyward, "I don't like the look of those clouds."

The sky rumbled lightly in response.

"That went off like it was waiting for it," Lena said.

The three turned around and hiked back towards camp. About halfway there, a dense fog rolled in. Even the sun seemed to vanish behind a thick curtain of gray.

"Where did this come from?" Webby cried.

"It's thicker than Dismal Downs out here!" Scrooge shouted, "You kids stay close."

"Keep talking, I can't see anything!" Lena shouted back.

She stumbled, falling to the ground.

"Ow."

Looking back, she saw her foot tangled in a tree root. Kicking free, she stood back up.

"Hey, where are you guys?"

Silence greeted her shout.

"Webby? Uncle Scrooge?"

Not even the tweet of a bird or the chirp of a cricket.

"Anyone?"

Lena gulped. Her pulse heightened as old fears reared up in her mind.

' _Alone…I'm all alone…'_

Usually, she could deal with silence, with being by herself. Her house was large, lots of rooms to disappear into. However, she always knew that someone would be around the corner if she needed them. Big house, close-knit family. The idea that she was never really alone, that she could always just walk down the hall and find someone, it gave her comfort. But now, there was no one here, no one to turn to…

She shook her head, banishing the thoughts.

"No, stop that. That's the anxiety talking. You are not your fears."

But her fingers felt like pins and needles, her breath began to grow heavy. The thoughts began to swirl in her head.

' _Alone…I'm all alone…alone in darkness…stop that…no Webby, no Scrooge, no Donald…no, I have this…no Huey, Dewey, or Louie, no Beakley…no, I can do this, focus…alone in darkness…I can do this, I can do this, I can't do this,_ I can't do this! _'_

Lena clutched her hands to her head, as if trying to squeeze the bad thoughts out. She tried her best. She tried her breathing exercises, tried to block out everything but her heartbeat.

"Those are just thoughts. I am not my thoughts. I am not my fears _. I am not my fears. I AM NOT MY FEARS!"_

After a while, she began to calm down a little. Enough to realize that she had fallen to her knees, enough to feel the tears in her eyes…

Enough to realize she was not alone.

She craned her neck up, taking in the tall figure before her. He was clad in white, and he rode a white horse. She couldn't make out his face, not that he was hooded or helmeted or anything, but she just couldn't focus on it.

"You seek Baba Yaga," he said in a bone-shakingly deep voice, "I can take you to her."

Lena slowly got her feet, remembering. In some stories, Baba Yaga employed four horsemen as servants. They rode out and did certain jobs for her, the details were sketchy as to what.

Her nerves returned, and she eyed the horseman warily. The horseman must have sensed her hesitation, because he spoke up again.

"I bear you no ill will. However, unless you ride with me, you will never leave the fog…"

Well, that settled that.

Lena walked closer the horseman, reaching up to grasp the saddle and try to pull herself up. But the horseman just picked her up by the back of her shirt and deposited her in front of him.

"Hold tight, young one. We ride."

He urged the horse on, and the mists blurred around them.

Lena wasn't sure how long they rode. The ethereal nature of their surroundings meant there were no landmarks to take advantage of. So Lena closed her eyes and let the feel of the whipping wind on her face calm her.

She'd need all her wits about her for this next part, and since she was still recovering from an anxiety attack, she needed all the calm she could muster.

The horse finally slowed and stopped.

"We're here."

Lena opened her eyes.

Before them was an image she had seen in books, artist's representations of the tales. But seeing the real thing evoked something akin to awe.

The house was a twisted wooden hut, resting upon two massive chicken legs, like the piling of a raised beach house. The shingles were a stark red against the grayness of the background. The wood looked sickly and rotting, but also strong and unyielding, the paradox coming to her mind and asserting itself the more she looked. The legs were gangly, and at the moment folded up, like a chicken resting upon a nest.

It was something that could have only existed in fairy tale. That it was before her was testament to its owner's power.

She slid off the horse, still gazing at the house with a mix of wonder and dread.

"She waits for you," she heard the horseman say, but when she looked back to thank him for the ride, he was gone. There was no sign he'd ever even been there.

Lena gulped slightly, and made her way toward the house. She stopped at the gate of the picket fence that surrounded the house, a fence made of bones because of course it was.

In a small garden was an old woman. She was gnarled and stooped, dressed much more simply than Lena expected. The woman cast a gimlet eye in Lena's direction before grunting.

"Are you going to stand there all day, girl? Come in already!"

Lena carefully did so, her body shaking slightly from nerves. She was standing in front of Baba Yaga. To a magical person, it was like standing before a bizarre fusion of Santa Claus and the Krampus, great and powerful and inspiring and terrible beyond imagining.

"Make yourself useful and help me with the garden," the woman ordered.

Lena nodded, not quite trusting her voice. Baba Yaga directed her to some weeds, and Lena began to pull.

"So," the old woman said, "What makes you seek me out, young one?"

"Well…er…I…"

"So nervous. And I haven't done anything yet."

"I have heard the stories of Baba Yaga. They're very…intimidating."

The witch cackled, and Lena shivered. The sound made it feel like rocks rolling down her spine.

"I'm not going to hurt you…yet…or maybe even at all. That depends on you, Lena Le Strange."

Lena didn't ask how the witch knew her name. Someone as old and powerful and wise as Baba Yaga was supposed to be, she'd probably forgotten more about magic than Lena would ever know.

"My sources tell me you have an item in your possession," Lena croaked.

"You'll have to be more specific, I've collected a number of items through the years. And pass me those small pruning shears while you're at it."

Lena looked toward the basket the old woman had gestured to, and retrieved the small hand pruner.

"It's a disk. Originated in Greece."

Baba Yaga seemed to think for a moment, tapping her chin.

"That does sound familiar…I'll have to look through my attic."

They worked in silence for a moment, Lena weeding and Baba Yaga picking some tomatoes and a pair of squash. As she moved on to look over some turnips, she spoke again.

"Out here alone, then?"

"No, I came with my family."

"Good people, I take it."

"The best," Lena said, a smile crossing her face.

"Now, that smile. People don't smile like that unless they're truly grateful for their lot in life. And to see a smile like that on one so young…tell me, child, did you have a rough past before this family of yours?"

Lena's smile fell.

"I see the answer is yes."

"I was raised by…my aunt…but she was twisted and evil."

"Abusive?" Baba Yaga asked, sounding angry.

"Yes," Lena whispered.

"Well, you're rid of her now, yes?"

"I have a better family than she ever was."

"Good, good. Tell me about them. Indulge a silly old woman."

Lena hesitated for a second, but began to speak.

"Well, first there's Webby. She was my first friend in years, and easily my biggest supporter. She's like the little sister I never had. We're almost inseparable. She looks at everything with this excitement I've never seen in anyone else, and I think it's amazing. Then there's the triplets. Huey's the smart one, and he's good at being a friend. He's got an answer for just about everything, and he can help with almost any problem you have. Dewey's about the bravest person you'll meet. Adventure or social situations, he's the one that takes the chances without caring what other people will think. Louie…well, the joke is that he's the evil triplet, but he's actually a sweet guy when you get to know him. If Huey's the guy you can work with and Dewey's the guy you could party with, then Louie's the one you can relax with."

"Good brothers and sister, sounds like. Adults in your life better than your aunt?"

"Only a lot. Mrs. Beakley is Webby's grandma. We give each other a hard time sometimes, but she's still there if you need a shoulder. Donald is the boys' uncle, he raised them after his sister disappeared. And he did a great job. He might have a temper and the worst luck in the world, but he's there when you need him. He talked me through a big anxiety attack, and he's been a protector ever since. And Uncle Scrooge…"

"Scrooge McDuck?" Baba Yaga laughed, "Him I've heard of."

"Whatever you've heard, it's nothing compared to the man himself. He's a titan, brave and wise. He's made his mistakes, but I don't think there's anyone out there more dedicated to family. He took me into his home because I needed one. He's given me so much, and I don't think I can ever repay him for what he's done for me."

"You must have been in a rough place if you're this grateful."

"I don't like to talk about it," Lena said, souring.

"If you don't deal with it, it'll fester, child."

"No offense, lady, but I already have a psychiatrist," Lena shot back, before slamming her beak shut and silently cursing that her attitude had to resurface _now_.

But Baba Yaga just laughed.

"There's the fire. That monster that called itself your aunt didn't beat it out of you completely. Good. Keep ahold of that, it'll help you survive a harsh world."

Baba Yaga gathered up the basket of vegetables and started talking toward the house.

"Meet me inside when you're done weeding. I have a few other things you can help me with."

And so the time went. Lena helped her dust the small hut, can some fruit, feed a small parliament of owls, clean the fireplace, and sort a few spell ingredients.

Through it all, Lena kept mostly quiet. She wasn't as nervous as she was upon first meeting Baba Yaga, but she still treaded lightly. The old witch didn't ask her more questions, but Lena often caught her observing, giving such a piercing stare that she felt like her soul was being looked at.

It was while dusting the bedroom that Lena spotted it. A bronze disk a little bigger than her hand. She picked it up. One side was covered in lines of symbols, symbols that seemed familiar. The other side held an image Lena had seen several times in her research.

The visage of Phobos.

This was it. This was what she had come for.

Lena looked around. She was alone in the room. Baba Yaga was tending to elsewhere. It wouldn't take much to slip it under her shirt and…

And what? Run from _Baba Yaga_? Could she even pull that off? And if she did, would that mean she'd be looking over her shoulder for the rest of her life, constantly afraid the old witch would pop out of nowhere and hurt her…or worse, her family?

Her mind flashed to a depressingly familiar nightmare. Webby grunting as flesh was consumed by fabric, thread, and cotton. Even if she had the Hand of Phobos, could she stop that?

Lena looked at the disk. She weighed it in her hand and ground her beak.

Then she sighed, dusted the area where it had been, and put it back.

 **oOo**

When they were done with the chores, Baba Yaga slumped in her chair.

"Many thanks, young one. These old bones make things so difficult sometimes. Can you do me one more favor?"

Lena nodded.

"Quiet one, aren't you? Just beyond my fence, by the riverbank, there is a bush that grows blue roses. Fetch me a few. And be careful of the thorns. You can borrow those shears I was using in the garden earlier."

"Okay, I'll be back."

Lena walked to the nearby river. The forest was quiet, the only sound being the gurgling of water over stone.

She easily found the bush, and began to clip. She made sure to attack the thorns with the shears.

As she was pondering the strange blue coloration of the roses, the feathers and hairs on the back of her neck bristled suddenly. It was a familiar feeling, a sense for danger honed from life on the streets. Nowadays, it got the most workout during the dart wars with the others, and it allowed her to usually last longest. Webby still won more of those bouts than she lost, but that was beside the point. The point was…

Lena scrambled to her feet and whipped around. A lone wolf stood there, ready to pounce, his lips peeled back to reveal sharp teeth.

She thought fast, casting a sticking charm. The wolf's partly-open mouth slammed shut, and it whimpered as it struggled to open it back up, front paws scrabbling at its muzzle.

Lena edged to the side, trying to find a decent getaway. But the wolf spotted her movement and lunged, apparently deciding to attack with claws and blunt force if teeth would not do.

Lena dove, throwing a spell behind her as she slid under the leaping wolf. The wolf hit the ground where she had been and kept going, the now-frictionless ground making it slide right into the river.

The shock of the water seemed to take some of the fight out of it, but the wolf lurched back to shore, quickly spotting Lena, who had prepared another spell.

The miniature lightning spell wasn't powerful on its own. It was barely stronger than a static shock. Several in quick succession shot at a wet opponent, however, that would do some damage.

The shocks seemed to unstick the wolf's muzzle, and it yelped in pain. It was soon staring at Lena in confusion, so she decided to go for the kill.

The kill being a voice-amplification spell.

" _ **GO AWAY!**_ "

The wolf yipped and darted off with its tail between its legs. Lena undid her volume spell and watched it go.

"Wuss."

Then she gathered up her cut flowers and headed back.

She found Baba Yaga on the front porch, grinning knowingly.

"I'm guessing you heard that?" Lena asked.

"A dead man would have heard that," Baba Yaga cackled, "Although my personal favorite was the lightning spells. Nicely done, very quick thinking."

Lena didn't bother to ask how she knew what was going on, she just handed the flowers over.

Baba Yaga took them inside, shortening the stems with a kitchen knife and putting all but one rose into a jar. The other she plucked the petals from. The petals went into a teapot, which she then filled with water and set over the stove.

"So…I suppose I should give you something for your hard work. It's only fair. Anything in particular, child?"

"Well…I did find that disk I was looking for in your room while I was dusting…"

Baba Yaga hummed, then padded off into her bedroom, coming back with the disk.

"If I may be honest for a moment, young Lena, I knew more than just your name. I know a lot about you. Those questions from earlier were mostly so I could gauge you in person, test you shall we say."

Left unsaid was that the disk had been left out as part of another test, but given the way Baba Yaga tapped it as she spoke, Lena guessed that.

"I also know of your quest for the Hand of Phobos, and why you seek it. Truth be told, I foresaw a shadow of this day the moment I laid my hands on this disk. I didn't know the details at the time, but I knew that it would fall into the hands of a young duck, and I knew I would be the one to give it to her."

Baba Yaga regarded the disk, a frown on her face.

"I remember that day. Whatever sources led you to me, they likely did not tell you why I had it."

"A merchant and his family bought it from traders. Then they disappeared."

"Accurate, if incomplete. What is not known is that they were wicked souls. Even the son was twisted and dark. Most importantly, the wife was a practitioner of black magic. She either knew what this disk was or had an idea. They had intended to use this to find ways to power. So I dealt with things before they could escalate."

Baba Yaga sighed, then held out the disk for Lena to take.

"You, however…I sense you are a good soul."

Lena hesitantly reached for the disk, but just as her fingers brushed it, Baba Yaga pulled back a bit.

"But we warned. The Hand of Phobos was crafted by the god himself, and holds a portion of his power. Such divine energies are not to be trifled with on the best of days, but given that they came from a god of fear…well. The Hand itself will test you, and even if you win its allegiance, it will be a heavy burden to bear. To face it is to face fear, and only one who understands it can survive. Watch yourself, Lena Le Strange. Fear will be your ally and your enemy in this fight."

Lena looked into Baba Yaga's eyes as she took the disk. They glittered with a dark knowledge. It was like staring into the face of Death, and Lena knew that if lived to be over a hundred, she would never forget the transfixing nature of that gaze.

Then the teapot whistled, breaking the spell.

Baba Yaga rushed over and took the teapot off the stove. She poured herself a cup of the blue liquid, then settled into her chair.

"I'll take you back to your camp in a minute. Just let me finish my tea. Good for my old bones."

 **oOo**

Baba Yaga did not ride a broom or a magic carpet. Instead, she used a giant mortar, steering with the pestle as they flew through the air. It was an almost comical sight, but Lena knew, having met the witch, that she would never laugh at the method of transportation.

Night had fallen by the time they took off. Despite her circumstances, Lena marveled at the night sky, so much clearer than in Duckburg. The landscape raced below them, the wind rushing through her hair.

Lena resolved to find a method of flight for herself, because she wanted to experience this again. It was intoxicating.

They spotted the glow of a campfire in the distance, and Baga Yaga touched down not far from it.

"Here's your stop, child."

"Thank you for your help," Lena said as she climbed out.

"Best of luck to you. I think you're going to go far."

"That a real prediction like knowing who this disk would go to, or is it just a gut feeling?"

Baba Yaga just laughed as the mortar and pestle rose up.

Lena watched them go until she could no longer see the silver glint of metal in the moonlight. A feeling of peace raced through her as she palmed the disk.

She'd met Baba Yaga…and she wasn't dead or cursed!

Lena giggled as she made her way toward the campsite. She'd did it. She'd actually survived!

Magica De Spell didn't seem so scary anymore, not compared to what had happened today.

She soon reached the campsite, seeing everyone gathered around the fire with morose looks on their faces. Webby looked destroyed, and Lena's heart broke a little.

"Hey!"

Everyone looked up. Jaws dropped.

"Who died?" Lena asked.

There was a pink and purple blur, and Webby impacted Lena's chest at high speed, sending them both to the ground.

" _Lena!_ YoudisappearedwheredidyougoyouvebeengonealldayIwassoworriedIthoughtyouweregoneohmyGodwhathappened—"

"Webby, oxygen becoming an issue!"

Webby loosened her hold, and looked up at Lena with tear-filled eyes.

"You beautiful idiot, I was so worried," she sobbed.

Lena hugged her back, shushing her gently.

"It's okay, Webby. I'm okay."

"Don't do that to me again."

"I'll try really hard not to."

Webby finally let Lena up, and everyone else crowded around, asking questions. It was actually Launchpad who stopped it, picking up what Lena had dropped during the tackle-hug.

"What's this?"

Everyone swept their gaze from the disk to Lena and back again.

"Lena," Scrooge began, "Is that-"

"Yep."

"You mean-" "Oh my God-" "You beat Baba Yaga!"

The triplets' cries made Lena laugh.

"Hardly. I helped an old woman with some household chores and she gave it to me."

"What's an old woman doing with a funky disk?" Launchpad asked.

"Idiot!" Donald shouted leaping up to dope-slap Launchpad, "She got it from Baba Yaga!"

"So she just handed it over?" Webby asked, "Why?"

"Baba Yaga is known for being capricious and wise," Lena said, taking the disk back, "She said that when she got it, she somehow knew that I would come for it in the future, and that I was meant to have it."

"Well, I doubt we'll be getting any further answers on that front, then," Scrooge said, "What matters is that Lena's back, we have our McGuffin, and we're nearly at our ultimate goal. Still, young lady, we'll be having a talk about you disappearing on us."

"It was magic fog! What was I supposed to do?"

Webby ended up laughing so hard she could barely breathe, just happy to have Lena back.


	9. The Hand of Phobos

_Part two of the adventure to gain the Hand of Phobos…_

 _In which a test is given. Will Lena be worthy to wield the might of the God of Fear?_

* * *

 **Freedom from Fear**

Chapter 9

The Hand of Phobos

They'd finally found a destination.

Excited due to how close their goal was, Lena, Webby, and Huey had spent the plane-ride back to Duckburg translating the disk. Lena knew of the language, having read a few books that used similar dialect. Webby was good at puzzles, and Huey poured over the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook's chapter on ciphers to give him a leg up.

"Because of course that thing has a chapter on ciphers and codes," Lena had said with a roll of her eyes.

Between the three of them, they had a rough idea of where the House of Fear was, the resting place of the Hand of Phobos.

They had it more or less pinpointed by the time they got back to America.

"It's an island off the coast of Greece," Huey said, "I cross-referenced the location from the disk with maps of the area, then looked it up online. It's tiny, uninhabited, and more or less undisturbed."

"In other words, perfect for a long-lost temple," Scrooge grinned, "Well done, lad."

"Hey, Mr. McD? We got a problem," Launchpad called out from the cockpit.

Scrooge climbed up into the cockpit quickly.

"Launchpad? What is it?"

"I can vouch for him, that fuel gauge was not that low before," Donald said, pointing at the gauge, "It's like we suddenly lost a lot of fuel at once."

"Can we make it back to the mansion?"

"Not quite. I think I can get us to the airfield outside of Duckburg," Launchpad said, "It'll still be a close shave, but a lot less than the mansion, and I'll have more runway in case of a crash."

"Very well," Scrooge said, "I was going to ask you to take the Sunchaser in for an inspection anyway. This saves the trip."

 **oOo**

Launchpad managed to land on the airstrip with some effort, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank God we didn't crash and die in fire," Donald muttered.

As everyone trooped out of the Sunchaser, they spotted a commotion nearby. It appeared three of the airfield's trucks had crashed on the neighboring runway. A fire had started, but emergency services were on the scene, and Gizmoduck was just landing and lending a hand rescuing people from the fire.

In the shock of seeing this practically outside their door, everyone looked on in worry, dropping what they had been doing to see what was going on.

As such, no one but Dewey saw an unknown figure duck out of their plane…but he did see what they had in their hand.

"THIEF!" he shouted, giving chase.

But the thief had a much longer stride, and easily outpaced the young duck. Spotting the thief jump into a truck, he thought quickly and whipped out his phone.

The truck peeled away, but Dewey managed to get a small victory.

Donald caught up with him, panting a bit.

"Dewey, what happened?"

"I saw that guy run out our plane. He stole the disk!"

Donald took Dewey back to the others, and the duckling told them what he'd seen.

"I managed to get a picture of their truck, though," he said, "Maybe we can run the plates and track them down."

"I wonder why even steal it in the first place," Huey said, "Sure it leads to something big, but only we know that."

"A question we can ask another time," Scrooge said, "In the meantime, we still have the research you and the girls did on the ride back. That should be enough to let us continue."

As Webby called Mrs. Beakley for a ride, Scrooge caught Gizmoduck's attention and explained what happened.

"Perhaps this fire was set as a distraction," Gizmoduck said, "I'm no detective, but…anyway, do you want me to chase after them?"

"They're long gone now, I need you to do something else for me."

Scrooge lowered his voice.

"And it actually concerns your police contact. Can your mother run a plate, Fenton?"

"Of course, why?"

"Dewey managed to snap a picture."

Scrooge gave him the number, and then left Fenton to his call.

While waiting for Mrs. Beakley, Scrooge, Donald, and Launchpad did a cursory inspection of the plane. What they found was concerning.

Launchpad brushed a finger over the tiny hole in the plane's chassis.

"This is right over the gas tank."

"You sure?" Donald asked.

"You know boats, I know planes. We've probably been leaking fuel for who knows how long, that's why we were low."

"A hole like that doesn't just appear," Scrooge said, "Hole in the tank, suspicious fire, the theft of the disk…I don't like this, not one bit."

Mrs. Beakley soon arrived with the limo, and as everyone piled in, Gizmoduck wheeled up to Scrooge.

"Just got a call back," he said quietly, "The plates matched a truck owned by Glomgold Industries."

Scrooge growled at that.

"Suddenly things make much more sense."

"Mr. McDuck?"

"Never you mind. Thanks for checking for me, I've got it from here. I know Glomgold better than you."

Scrooge ducked into the limo with everyone else, leaving Fenton confused.

"It's Glomgold," Scrooge said to everyone, "The plates matched a truck owned by his company. I'd wager he somehow sabotaged the Sunchaser so the theft could occur. Far easier to steal from this airfield than from the mansion or the bin."

"You think he knows about the Hand?" Webby asked.

"He probably picked up on what we were researching, and decided that it led to something important."

"I wasn't exactly being subtle with what I bought from the Magic Box or picked up at the library," Lena said, "If his spying was good enough-"

"Given how often he tries to kill Scrooge, it's probably good enough to keep track of us at least," Louie interjected.

"So it's a race to the House of Fear, then," Donald said, "How quick can the Sunchaser be repaired, or do we have to use a different plane?"

"Our only advantage is that Glomgold is an idiot," Scrooge said, "He won't have the right resources to translate the disk. We were lucky Lena knew the rough parts of the dialect, and how old did you say it was?"

"Older than dirt."

"So Glomgold will be running around trying to figure it out, giving us the opportunity to raid the temple before he can get his act together. We've got time enough to rest and set off in the morning. We'll use another plane and get there before he can figure out where he's going."

 **oOo**

"You sure you can figure out where we're going?" Glomgold asked.

"The more time I waste answering your questions, the less I have to translate this disk," Magica replied, "And I believe you were the one who said time was money?"

Magica De Spell didn't like having to work with such an idiot, but it was the best she could do at the moment. Thankfully, Glomgold's resources had found her a magical focus that was adequate enough for her needs, even if she was forced back into her shadow form if she used too much power.

Magica had tempted him with offers of power. It wasn't hard to put the pieces together given the intelligence of what the McDuck clan was researching, and a few choice words to Glomgold had the squat fool was convinced he could beat Scrooge to some powerful magical artifact that he could use to his advantage.

And so far he'd done a decent job. A drone to sabotage the Sunchaser, a not-so-accidental accident on the airfield they were most likely to land on, and a skilled thief, and they had the map to what McDuck sought.

Magica translated as much of the disk as she could before she lost power. While it was an old dialect, it was one she was vaguely familiar with, and the majority of the writings were transcribed before her form broke down.

"There, I've done all I can for now," the shadow hissed, "I must rest. Once I've gained some strength back, I'll finish the work."

" _Yes_!" Glomgold cried, " _I can feel it now! Ultimate power_ , or at least enough to take out my hated rival anyway. HA-HA! GLOMGOLD! GLOMGOLD! GLOMGOLD!"

Magica let him have his fun, but inwardly cackled. The poor fool had no idea that that artifact wasn't for him, but for her, to regain her full power and end her own feud once and for all.

In all the excitement, Magica had forgotten about Lena, forgotten that the girl had learned much on Magica's metaphorical knee. She hadn't realized that part of the training included smatterings of ancient languages.

She realized her error the next morning, when she and Glomgold got word that the McDuck clan had jetted off in a new plane, leaving the two scrambling to prepare one of their own and follow them.

 **oOo**

Greece. A land of rugged landscapes and an air of mystery. A place where some of the world's most famous myths lie just beneath the surface.

Far off the southwest coast of the peninsula of Peloponnese, famously home to Sparta, lay a minuscule island, barely a mile across. It was unremarkable by all accounts, yet it had held a secret for thousands of years.

The group scoured the island, hoping to find some clue or sign that would lead them to the House of Fear.

Lena rubbed her fingers, trying to stem her nervousness. So close to the end she could almost taste it. The anticipation was killing her.

"Anyone find anything?" Donald shouted.

There were no's from around the area.

"It's got to be here someone, right?" Dewey asked.

"Unless you guys missed your translations," Louie responded.

"The information dug up said that the cult fell to the greater influence of Sparta," Webby replied, "It makes sense that the cult's main headquarters would be relatively close to where Sparta was."

"All I'm saying is that this island's a barren rock…"

As Louie complained, Lena suddenly felt something. Her fingers twitched, and her heart thumped. She looked in Louie's direction, and she felt _something_. She wasn't sure what.

"We're been searching a mile-wide island for nearly an hour. If we haven't found it yet, we might not—WHOOP!"

Louie suddenly dropped out of sight.

Everyone gasped and made their way over, finding a rocky hole where Louie had been.

"Louie! Come on bro, talk to us!" Huey shouted.

"I'm okay," came the youngest triplet's voice, "But I am very sure this hole wasn't here a minute ago."

"The disk," Lena said, "It was described as the key to the House of Fear. Maybe they meant that literally."

"But we don't have the disk," Launchpad said.

"We're dealing with a cult that possessed a powerful magical artifact. Who's to say the disk itself didn't have passive magic?"

"This temple we're looking for was never found, it was cultural shifts that killed the cult," Webby said, "Maybe the cult saw the writing on the wall and used the disk to seal the temple."

"That still doesn't explain everything," Huey said, "Launchpad's right, we don't have the disk."

"I handled it more than you guys, and I have innate magic. Maybe something rubbed off and that was enough," Lena offered.

"Let's not look a gift horse in the mouth," Scrooge said, "Magic is strange sometimes. We found a sign, that's enough. Louie, do you see anything down there?"

"Bunch of cave drawings, a few fancy pots…hello! Stone flooring. Leads deeper into the cave."

"Sit tight, we're headed down!"

Donald quickly ran back to the plane and got some rope. Scrooge ordered Launchpad to stay topside and keep an eye on their escape route. Everyone else shimmied down the rope and met Louie at the bottom.

"I'm fine, Uncle Donald," Louie said, squirming away from his guardian's protective grasp, "A little bruised, but I'll survive. What's important is I think we've struck gold."

He picked up a Grecian urn, remarkably intact if dusty. He held it up, revealing a space he'd cleaned up a bit.

"This picture look familiar?"

And it did. They had all seen the same picture on the disk: the visage of Phobos.

"Webbigail, you were carrying the flashlights?" Scrooge asked.

"And I made up a few glowstick necklaces," Webby replied, digging through her pack.

"Pass me one of those, then," Lena said, "I want my hands free."

The group picked their way through the cave, following the stone road. Eventually, they came to a massive cavern.

Beyond a large circle of stone tiles lay a set of tall stairs. At the top of the stairs was a temple, inset into the rock. The only entrance was a stone door, hanging from above and half-open.

Above the entrance was the visage of Phobos.

"We found it," Lena laughed in glee, "We found it!"

"Indeed you did," came a new voice.

Elation turned to shock as they spun around and beheld Flintheart Glomgold.

"Thanks for leading us right to the treasure, McDuck," Glomgold gloated, "We'll be taking it now."

"You and what army, Flinty?" Scrooge growled as he and Donald stood in front of the children protectively.

The air behind Glomgold shimmered, and several goons appeared. At their head was a terrifying figure.

"This one!" Magica De Spell crowed.

She leveled a black amulet towards them. Strands of darkness shot out, binding Scrooge and Donald. Magica stepped forward, smug.

"Not as powerful as the staff I used to use," she said waving the amulet, "But it does the job. I expected more, Scroogey. Your pilot put up a better fight than this."

Lena was frozen. She could barely breathe. All she could do was stare at a sight that haunted her nightmares: Magica with her powers back, threatening the people she loved.

Then there was a pink-purple blur.

"GAH! MY RIBS!"

"LENA!" Webby shouted, "Go for the Hand! Run, NOW!"

Webby flipped up and kicked Magica in the face, and that sight combined with the shout shocked Lena into motion.

A part of her brain cackled, knowing she would savor the image of Magica getting smacked down for the rest of her days.

"You tormented an innocent soul, used her like a tool!" Webby shouted as she attacked Magica, the witch scrambling to keep up, "You messed her up for life! Now you're trying to hurt her again, take away everything she cares about, everything _I love_ , and for _what?_ Some stupid feud that never did anything good for anyone? You are not! A! NICE! PERSON!"

Magica finally managed to release a pulse that knocked Webby away, only for the triplets to dive in and dogpile her. Glomgold's goons joined the fight, but the children fought like wildcats.

Lena ran up the stairs, seeing the stone door start to lower. She kicked her speed up a notch and dove, sliding through the door just as it was closing. She could hear Magica's howls of fury before the stone cut all outside noise off.

Outside, Glomgold's men finally pinned down the children, but Webby only laughed.

"You're too late, you twisted witch! Lena's got a straight shot to the thing that can end this once and for all."

"You think she can stand and fight?" Magica growled, "You saw her freeze before me. She is filled with fear, too weak to act against me!"

"She stared down Baba Yaga to get the map to here. She won't be afraid of you!"

"We'll see…"

Privately though, Magica marveled. If what the child said was true, then Lena had faced a force even Magica herself would rather avoid. Had her niece changed under the protection of the McDucks?

"No, it doesn't matter," she muttered, "We'll break through the door, claim the power, and that'll be the end of it."

 **oOo**

She made it in. She was safe.

Lena lay on the ground inside the temple, watching the door and repeating this thought to herself. She half-expected for Magica to come bursting in any second.

As time ticked onward, and nothing happened, Lena's rapid heartbeat slowed back down. She took a shuddering breath and let it out slowly.

Then she got to her feet, squared her shoulders, and turned around.

She had work to do.

The temple was dark, with looming columns of black marble. The only light was the glowstick necklace around her neck, but the glow did little to banish the shadows of the temple. Walking through it felt like walking through a cave, unable to shake the feeling that something dangerous was in there with you.

The atmosphere got to her. As she headed deeper, she felt fear. Her heart felt like a jackhammer in her chest. She could feel cold sweat run beneath her feathers. Her knees buckled every few steps.

But she kept strong. She kept moving forward.

"I am not my fears. I am not my fears."

Finally, after what felt like forever of walking, she reached the inner sanctum. Strange stones glowed in torch holders, casting an eerie yellow glow around the room. In the center of the room was a shrine dedicated to Phobos, a statue that towered over Lena. At the statue's feet was a small alter.

And there, wrapped around a stone hand like a glove on a mannequin, was what she sought.

The red-bronze of the Hand of Phobos glinted in the light like something from another world. As Lena stepped closer, she could feel a charge in the air, an aura of power emanating from the hand.

She recalled Baba Yaga's warning of being tested, and wondered as to how.

As if answering her unasked question, the black gem on the back of the gauntlet's hand began to glow. There was a flash of dark light…

McDuck Manor was in ruins. Half the ceiling was gone, the windows were shattered, and debris littered the floor.

Magica De Spell sat in a throne of gold, fused from countless coins. She toyed with a single dime, flipping it about in her hand before making it float near her shoulder. A small treasure chest flew across the room and settled in her hand.

"Is this your favorite treasure?" she asked the dime, "Too bad, now it's ice cream!"

The chest transfigured into an ice cream cone, and Magica held it toward the dime.

"Want a lick?"

She dropped it with an unconvincing cry of 'oops!' before grabbing the dime and squeezing tightly.

"How does it feel, Scroogey? Trapped within your prized possession, unable to stop me from destroying everything you hold dear?"

She waved her hand around the room, indicating the sick trophies on display.

Huey, Dewey, and Louie were statues, huddled together in fear, their last tears of terror frozen on their faces. Beakley and Launchpad were trapped in tapestries, their screaming faces etched upon the fabric a testament to their fate. Donald was a large candle, his body the wax and his horrified and pained face flickering in the fire. Webby was a doll, hung from string like a puppet.

Lena saw it all.

Magica noticed her there, and compelled her forward with magic. Lena felt her limbs move beyond her control as she walked forward and knelt before Magica.

"Yes, you know your place," Magica chuckled darkly, "But don't fret, dear sweet Lena. Look at what you've helped accomplish. Look at what I've achieved thanks to you. My power restored and my enemies beaten, thanks to your help."

Magica's shadow reared up and wrapped around Lena, threatening to drag her into itself and banish her to the dark.

"Now, I know I promised you freedom, but I know what you really want. You want someone to care for you. Well, you'll soon be a part of me. You'll never be alone again, dear niece."

Lena couldn't move. She could barely breathe. All she could do was stare at what was around her and listen to Magica's evil laughter.

And then…

"Is that it?"

Magica stopped laughing, giving Lena an odd look. Lena returned it with a flat look of her own.

"I have this nightmare every week. Aside from the shock value, it's not doing anything."

Magica blinked at her awkwardly.

"Well then…"

With a swift movement, the shadow dragged her under. Lena was floating in darkness. She could barely move. There was nothing around her. No light, no hope.

She began to hear voices.

" _I never should have let you near my granddaughter!"_

" _You really thought you'd be welcome in my house? You're blood to my worst enemy!"_

" _You're a freak!" "Go away!" "Burn the witch!"_

" _Stay away from my boys!"_

" _You're not my friend! You're a coward, a traitor!"_

The faces of the family swirled around her, spitting bile and hatred at her, twisted into monstrous forms.

Webby's hurt worst of all, piercing her heart like a dagger.

" _How could I ever be friends with a monster? You only made friends with me to betray us all for your aunt! You're just like her. You have dark magic in your blood._ "

"No…NO! This isn't real! This is all lies!" Lena shouted, "I know how they feel about me! They took me into their home, made me a part of their family! These people love me, they would never toss me aside!"

" _I cut Scrooge out of my life for a decade!_ " Donald's voice shot back.

"Out of grief and poorly-placed blame! It's not like that anymore! They're actually talking now!"

" _But that doesn't change what happened!"_

The image of Della appeared, her face frozen over from an unearthly cold.

" _Lost forever…floating in the void of space…all because of Scrooge…"_

"What happened to Della Duck was an accident. Donald forgave Scrooge. And we know she's alive. We're going to get her back."

The image of Della faded.

"Is this the best you can do?" Lena growled, "This is nothing. I deal with doubts like this every day. But those are just thoughts. I am not my thoughts. I am not my fears! I don't have to be afraid of my doubts, because I have _them!_ "

Lena brought to mind new images, images of the extended McDuck clan. She could almost feel Webby's hand in hers and Scrooge's hand on her shoulder, almost hear the triplet's laughter.

"They are my family! They are my strength!"

The twisted faces faded, the voices falling silent.

The shadows receded, and Lena found herself in a glass box. She felt her limbs growing numb, and looked down to see them turning into wood.

"Okay, this I'll give you, but if the last two pieces couldn't break me, you think this will?"

The wood reached her chest, and she found it hard to breathe, but she pushed on.

"I know this is an illusion, a test. I won't give in! There's too much riding on this for me to fail!"

The wood reached her throat.

"You hear me?! I'm not afraid! I'm not—MGRK!"

The wood covered her beak, welding it shut.

But Lena stared defiantly at the red eyes watching her, never breaking her gaze.

There was a flash of light, and Lena was back in the temple, before the alter.

And sitting on the stone steps leading up to it was a wolf with wild fur and pure red eyes, a perfect match for the statue looming above them.

"Greetings, Lena Le Strange. I am Phobos, the God of Fear. Come, sit with me. I would speak with you."

His voice was smoother than she imagined, almost friendly. It was completely at odds with his looks and reputation.

Lena slowly rose from where she lay on the floor, and steadily made her way over.

"Come now. Despite the teeth, I don't actually bite."

With care, Lena sat down next to the God of Fear, who smiled at her.

"Relax, you're not in any real trouble. I simply wanted to speak with you. I've been watching you for some time, young lady. Your fears are exquisite, and that courage is coming along nicely."

"What does a god of _fear_ care about courage?" Lena asked.

"You can't have one without the other. Two sides of a coin, you see."

He pulled a large golden coin out of the air, showing it off.

"Courage isn't about having no fear. It's about doing what is necessary despite it. It is overcoming it. You could almost say courage is inspired by fear."

He spun the coin, showing the other side.

"By contrast, fear cannot exist without something to oppose it. And fear itself is essential. Like love, it is a part of being alive. All the typically-viewed 'negative' emotions are like that. They are as important as positive, for they help a mind process things when the world is at its worst. Can you imagine a world where people could not express their anger, where the scars of misfortune remained etched in a psyche forever?"

Lena thought about it, then shuddered. On the surface, it seemed like a saccharine world, but she went to therapy. She knew how important it was to express one's frustrations, not keep them bottled up.

"Ah, you understand," Phobos said making the coin vanish, "And fear is just as important as anger. Fear is the sign that the body is in danger. Fear is the driving force for many decisions, good and bad. It is as much a part of a healthy mind as any other emotion. Many people think that fear should be purged, rejected, that bravery is the absence of it, but that is folly. Being without fear…that is a path to madness are sure as being overwhelmed by it."

Phobos looked at Lena with a piercing gaze.

"Do you reject fear, Lena Le Strange?"

Lena thought for a moment, composing her answer.

"No. Weird as it is, I'm a little glad for my fear. It's pushed me to do more. Sure, it can overwhelm me and that's bad, but… my fear for myself made me test the limits of Magica's binding, which eventually led to its breaking. My fear for Webby fueled my rebellion against that witch, which led to becoming part of a better family. And my fear for that family, of what Magica would do to them if given the chance, it had me find a way to end the threat, which led me here, to the Hand of Phobos."

"Yes, fear and caring in equal measure," Phobos mused, "That is what my brother and I are, you know. The children of War and Love, of Ares and Aphrodite."

Phobos was silent for a moment, letting the conversation lull so both parties could think on what was said.

"You know, the Spartans had a temple to Deimos and I. The warriors of Sparta came there to honor us, and to prepare for battle."

"To face their fears so that when the time came, they'd be ready."

"Very good. Now try this one. In the temple was a statue of my father. But it was chained. Now, why do you think that is?"

Lena sat and thought for a while. After a few minutes, she spoke.

"Most people would think it was to keep the spirit of War in their city. Sparta was big on warrior culture and all that jazz. But…"

"But?"

"But I think it was so they could remember that war has consequences. Sparta knew war better than any other place in Greece, so they'd know this: that Ares' power should not be unleashed unless you knew what you were getting into. A great and terrible magic would be worked, and unless you understand that, you don't deserve the power."

"And do you think you deserve a power like that?"

"I…I don't know. I don't even know if I want it, not really. I just want me and my family to be free of Magica…"

Phobos chuckled.

"Sometimes the best heroes are the ones who don't want to have that power. You know, a lot of people have tried to claim this gauntlet. They thought themselves mighty warriors, but were laid low by its power and deemed unworthy. Perhaps what was needed was someone like you. A strong man who has known power all his life may lose respect for that power, but a weak man knows the value of strength and will never misuse it, for he knows compassion."

Lena gave Phobos a side-eye.

"You stole that from that one superhero movie."

"It's a good line!" Phobos shot back petulantly.

Lena laughed, she couldn't help it.

"So, what happens now?" she asked.

"Well, that's up to you. If the gauntlet accepts you, you may have it."

Phobos smiled at her as he stood up.

"Good luck, Lena Le Strange. I'll be watching."

And Phobos vanished in a flash of red light.

Lena took a deep breath, then got up and approached the alter. The Hand of Phobos gave no reaction as she slipped it off the stone hand it rested on.

"Moment of truth," she muttered.

She pulled the gauntlet onto her right hand.

A fire raced up her arm. She felt energy pour into her being, filling her up until she felt she might burst. Her mind raced, images popping before her eyes like spots of color.

She saw war. She saw death. She saw destruction. The sky was crimson red. The earth shook as armies clashed. Blood fountained into the air and clogged the rivers.

Four horsemen rode across the land, and everywhere they traveled, chaos reigned. People turned in their neighbors, children screamed, and cities tore themselves apart.

She saw monsters of every shape and size. She saw people fight and die against them. She saw brave souls triumph before being snuffed out by an inexorable tide of madness.

Fear ran wild in the world, and nothing could stop it.

Lena didn't know how long she stood there as the Hand of Phobos tested her and warned her of what power she now held, but she was vaguely aware that she had started screaming.

 **oOo**

Magica and Glomgold were growing frustrated.

Despite almost an hour trying, Glomgold's men couldn't make a dent in the stone door. They had tried everything short of high explosives to force it, but the door had held impossibly strong.

Magica had long since ran out of active magic, returning to her shadow form. She paced against the wall, muttering to herself.

A drill bit broke, and the goon wielding it yelped.

"Oh, bad form," Scrooge laughed, "Next contestant!"

That had been a trend. The prisoners were being watched by several goons, but had made no move to try and escape. They seemed content to wait and make snarky comments towards the continuing failure.

The worst part was that no matter what threats Magica made, the pink one kept smiling, like she knew something they didn't.

Glomgold finally punched the ground, sick of solitaire, and shouted up at the men trying to breach the door.

"Will you lot hurry it up! I want that artifact so I can continue my plan of doom and vengeance!"

The door shuddered, and began to rise. The men clustered around it took a few steps back, shocked.

"Wait, did I do that?" Glomgold asked.

Webby started giggling unsettlingly.

"You guys are in trouble~" she sing-songed.

"You think Lena did it?" Dewey whispered.

"Of course she did," Webby whispered back.

The door rose fully, settling up high with a final rumble. The shadows were deep, making it impossible to see into the temple. A strange humming seemed to echo from the depths.

One of the men took a step forward, trying to make out anything from the darkness.

Suddenly, a large meaty hand reached out and punched him away.

The figure stomped out of the shadows. It was massively muscular, like a gorilla, but oddly hairless. The image of a primate was ruined by its head, that of an angry bull, its nose snorting in annoyance.

The minotaur was soon joined by an equally massive cyclops, its single eye leering balefully as the two knocked all the men off the top of the stairs before settling at the sides of the entrance like a pair of bouncers.

And singing began to echo from the dark.

" _Minotaur's my butler  
Cyclops my valet  
Centaur drives my chariot that takes me down the way_"

A ghostly centaur dashed out of the dark, racing down the stairs and bowling over the recovering men before vanishing in a burst of blue fire.

" _Through a river made of fire  
To a street that's paved in bones  
I got a dozen zombie skeletons to walk me to my throne_"

The ground near the prisoners rumbled and cracked, and twelve skeletal figures crawled out, facing down the goons and grinning grimly.

" _In the land of the dead  
Heck boy, ain't it grand?"_

Out from the darkness stepped Lena, her eyes wild and her smile wide and crazed.

" _I'm the overlord of the underworld"_

She raised her right hand, revealing the reddish-bronze gauntlet it was clad in.

" _Cause I hold Horror's Hand!"_

Magica let off a curse in Italian, and Lena continued to sing.

" _In the land of the dead  
I'm darkside royalty  
I'm far renowned in the underground  
And you can't take that from me"_

With a snap of her fingers, the zombies attacked, fighting off the goons with surprising strength and encircling the McDuck clan like guards. Two of the zombies proceeded to free them.

"Somebody stop this!" Glomgold yelled.

A few of the goons recovered swiftly and drew weapons, only for a three-headed dog to come out of nowhere, joining the zombies on the attack. Two of the heads bit down on the arm of one goon, shaking him like a toy and tossing him aside.

" _Cerberus my lap dog is loyal as can be  
My bed is made of skulls, I'm in the lap of luxury"_

Lena looked over the chaos and laughed, the gem on the gauntlet glowing brightly.

" _I've got a dragon's blood jacuzzi  
the Gorgons think it's cool…"_

She slammed her gauntlet-clad fist into the ground. A crack formed and raced down the side of the stairs. Rock fell away, and a reptilian form forced its way forward, many heads roaring.

" _And a seven-headed Hydra livin' in my swimming pool!_ " Lena finished with a laugh.

She picked her way down the stairs, flanked by the minotaur and cyclops. As she stepped, she danced, an improvisational soft-shoe accompanying her travel, the jaunty movements a stark contrast to the terrifying screams and growls of the hydra, the zombies, and the hellhound cleaning house on the bad guys.

" _In the land of the dead  
Heck boy, ain't it grand?  
I'm the overlord of the underworld  
Cause I hold Horror's Hand!"_

Magica tried to charge her, but with a gesture from Lena, the cyclops snatched her shadowy form out of the air and threw it into the air.

" _In the land of the dead  
I'm darkside royalty!"_

Lena thrust her hand out. Blue lightning arced from the gauntlet, striking Magica. The shadow screamed as it was thrust away from the sheer force.

" _I'm far renowned in the underground  
And you can't! Take! That! Away~! From~! Me~!"_

Lena reached the bottom of the stairs, her arms outstretched like a showman's final flourish. Her grin seemed to become even wider as lightning sparked from the Hand of Phobos. She gazed at Glomgold and his goons, daring them to make a move.

" _No, you can't take that from me,"_ she sang, the cheeriness of her prior singing giving way to a more threatening growl.

She squeezed her gauntlet-clad hand into a fist, and that was the last straw for ol' Flintheart.

"Retreat!" he shouted, and he and his goons made a run for it.

Magica spared a glance back at Lena, her shadowy face emanating a touch of fear, before her form chased after Glomgold, still smoking from the attack.

As soon as they were gone, Lena waved her hand. All the monsters vanished like smoke.

"Summoning spell, they came from the gauntlet," Lena said, her voice rapid, "I don't mind telling you, I'm going to have a lot of fun with that aspect. There must be over a hundred monsters in this thing. Instant minions at my command, each with their own powersets! Might want to avoid actual gorgons unless I can reverse any petrifying they do, but if I can, it'd be an excellent fight-ender. And we were right, the Hand of Phobos can serve as a mystical focus. That lightning thing it did, that was me! More powerful than anything I've ever done with lightning, too! I mean, HOLY SHIT does this feel awesome! What do you guys wanna do next? Wanna go fight tigers, I feel like fighting some tigers!"

"So this is what it's like on the other end of that," Webby muttered.

"Lena, are you okay?" Huey asked, "What happened in there?"

"Met the God of Fear, had a philosophical conversation. Then the gauntlet gave me a warning about what would happen if it was misused. Glad I know some minor healing magic, my throat was raw from the screaming. Better you don't know what I saw. All the same, it was worth it to get my hands on this bad boy!"

"Well, the threats gone now, so maybe you should take it off for a bit," Scrooge said, "We don't know what effects too much use might have…although I think I've guessed one…"

But Lena ignored him, picking Webby up and wrapping her in a hug.

"I don't have to worry that Magica will somehow break in and turn you all into sick trophies of her victory, because I can protect you! Isn't that great, Webby? Magica's never going to touch my family again, especially you. You're the little sister I always wished I had, you know that right Webby? I just love you SOOO MUCH!"

The breath was briefly driven from Webby's lungs as the hug tightened.

"Lena?" she asked, noting how quiet the older duck had suddenly gotten.

"Your feathers are really soft," Lena whispered, rubbing their faces together.

"Much as I like this, can you put me down now?"

Lena did so, and then her eyes locked on the ground.

"Lena?"

"Look, Webby. All these squares make a circle. All these squares make a circle. All these squares make a circle."

"Whelp, she's high as a kite," Louie said over Lena's chanting.

"And how do you know about that?" Donald asked, his eyes narrowed.

"Internet, duh."

"Okay, Lena, let's go back to the plane and go home, okay?" Webby said, pulling on Lena's arm.

Lena took one step, then fell to the ground.

"Webby, come down here so I can hug you some more…seriously, get down here. I can't get up, my legs stopped working."

Then Webby got an idea.

"Actually, Lena, why don't you take a nap? You've had quite the day."

"Yeah, a nap sounds nice…"

"Why don't you take that glove off? It wouldn't be comfortable to sleep in."

"It is metal…"

Lena tugged the gauntlet off. The second it passed her fingers, she conked out, snoring softly.

 **oOo**

Lena slowly awoke. She saw the ceiling of the plane above her and groaned.

"What happened?"

"You went nuts while wearing the Hand of Phobos, beat up all of Glomgold's men plus shadow-Magica, then conked out when you took it off," Webby said, "You were acting really, really weird. I was worried."

Lena realized that her head was on Webby's lap, the younger duck's fingers running through her hair. It felt nice.

"Huh. Must have been a power high. The Hand is a powerful artifact, and I'm not used to using that much magic juice. It's not a big deal."

"Lena, you were singing," Webby said bluntly, "You never sing, not even in the shower."

"I'm a fan of the artist."

Lena sat up.

"Look, it's nothing too serious. It sometimes happens when a magic-user gets their hands on a new focus. I'll stick to short-term wearing of the gauntlet, use it in controlled settings. It'll allow it to adapt better to my magical signature, and me to it. After a while, I shouldn't have as strong a reaction to overuse of the Hand. Bonus, if anyone tries to take it from me, it'll be harder for them to use it."

"You're thinking it backfiring on Magica?"

"As well as any other two-bit dark warlock wannabe that manages by some miracle to snatch it."

"Just be careful, okay?" Webby asked, "I don't want that thing to warp your mind. I like it the way it is."

"You worry too much," Lena replied, giving her a side-hug.

"You make me worry," Webby shot back, "After everything we've been through, I think I'm entitled…big sister."

Lena laughed warmly.

"Now that part I remember…little sis."

 **oOo**

Lena set the gauntlet on her shelf, regarding it.

"I think I get it," she said to herself, "My question was 'How do I beat Magica De Spell?' But it wasn't just about beating the Magica out there. It was about beating the shadow that haunts my dreams. How I beat my fear. Answer? By becoming fear. By proving that I am neither past it nor deep in it, but beyond it."

She sighed and traced the bronze plates.

"I am made of fear, but also of the love I have been given. Thank you for helping me figure that out. I promise to be worthy of your power."

She almost felt it thrum beneath her fingertips.

 **oOo**

"You failure!"

"It's not my fault that door was harder than diamond, or that McDuck had a ringer!"

"He wouldn't have had a ringer if we had beaten them into the temple!" Magica shot back, "For all your vaunted mercenaries, they couldn't handle a few children!"

"And what about you?" Glomgold snarled, "I seem to recall the pink one giving you what for!"

Magica and Glomgold growled angrily at each other before Magica sighed harshly.

"Fine…what's done is done. The McDucks have won this round…I need to think."

Her shadow slithered away before Glomgold could argue. It made its way to the roof, glaring at the moon.

"Damn it all. I will not be denied. I will be rejuvenated. By hook or by crook, I will have my power back."

* * *

 _With thanks to Voltaire._

 _Also, Phobos is voiced by Chris Sarandon, AKA Jack Skellington._


	10. Wielding Power

_Intermediate chapter. Mostly just Lena exploring her power with the Hand of Phobos, some domestic stuff, you know the drill._

 _Now, the NEXT chapter, that's when things get interesting…_

* * *

 **Freedom from Fear**

Chapter 10

Wielding Power

The Hand of Phobos was a potent artifact of magic. Forged by a god, its power was great, and if misused, it could usher incredible destruction on a vast scale. Being its chosen wielder was a great responsibility…but that didn't mean Lena wasn't going to have a little fun with it. She was still a teenager.

Fluttering pixies flew around the room, little feathers in their hands. Mrs. Beakley had a full feather duster, but the pixies easily reached the higher places for dusting, and were generally just more hands for the work.

Four of them lifted an old clock up, allowing her to swipe the table below it.

"And how long can you keep this up?" she asked.

"Summons from the gauntlet aren't a constant drain," Lena said, flexing the arm that bore the Hand of Phobos, "It's not like making a stream of fire or levitating things. There's a set amount of magic that goes into the summoning itself. You ever play those video games where it's a fantasy RPG?"

"Not really, but I know Webby's poured a few hours into one or two, so I'm vaguely familiar with them."

"Summons from the Hand are a lot like summons in those games. A set amount of power goes into the cast, and then the creature sticks around a while. Summoning all these pixies didn't take a whole lot, either."

"Well, they are quite small."

Lena handed a new lightbulb off to two of the pixies, and they flew up to join their brethren in changing one of the bulbs on the ceiling fan.

"The drops of power needed to summon them means I can make a lot at once, that's the idea," Lena said.

"How are you feeling, Lena?"

"I've been using the Hand to practice small acts of magic, get myself used to it. I don't wear it for very long, so the power high doesn't have much chance to creep in. I still get a little loopy, but it's not nearly as bad as the first time."

Mrs. Beakley suddenly stiffened.

"He's coming."

Lena blanched, then had the dusting pixies give their feathers back to Mrs. Beakley, who stuffed them down the end of her feather duster to disguise their presence. Lena then dismissed all the pixies save the two holding the old bulb. Scrooge entered the room, and his eyes zeroed in on the gauntlet.

"Lena…"

"I'm not using it for chores, I'm just getting used to the power."

"So why do you have it on now?" he grumbled, giving her a suspicious eye.

Lena beckoned, and the two pixies came down and deposited the old bulb in her hand.

"Changing a lightbulb. Seemed a small, safe thing to test myself with."

"And that's all you've been doing?"

"The only other big summon I've done this past week was having the minotaur help Launchpad change a tire on the limo. He couldn't find the jack."

Scrooge kept looking at her suspiciously, then grumbled a bit and walked off with a parting shot of "Good, no shortcuts, keep it up."

Once he was out of earshot, Beakley rounded on Lena.

"Only other, huh?" she hissed.

"Pixies used for testing don't count," Lena hissed back, "Big means lots more magic being used than the thimbles of juice the pixies take. It's what makes them good to use for testing."

 **oOo**

Lena slumped heavily in her chair, groaning a bit.

"Not quite awake, Lena?" Webby asked, passing her a Danish.

"Accidently stayed up late practicing transfiguration, lost track of time," Lena replied, yawning, "Brief power rushes didn't help, so I didn't get to sleep until after midnight."

"Been there," Huey said.

"It's why I kept checking for flashlights and little reading lights at bedtime for years," Donald added.

"Anyone spare some coffee?" Lena asked.

"Not at your age," Scrooge said, pouring her some tea, "Here, try this."

The cup was passed down the table until it reached Lena's hands. She sipped it, hummed a bit, then added some milk to it.

"Not bad," she finally said.

"Great, another convert to the Cult of the Hot Leaf Juice," Dewey said with a roll of his eyes.

"I will throw this cup at you, Blue. It is too early for ribbing."

"Who's ribbing, that stuff's gross."

"I think it's an acquired taste," Webby said, trying to be diplomatic and destroying it with her next sentence of "Although I personally can't stand it."

Lena just hummed and sipped her tea, already feeling the effects of the caffeine.

Breakfast discussions continued, and then Lena was asked what her plans for the day were.

"I'd thought it'd sit down and catalogue the various summons the Hand has," Lena said, "All those creatures I've created with it were a product of the gauntlet, not me, so I want to see what's in there."

"Can you do that without the power high?" Webby asked.

"Yeah, I stumbled upon a list function last night, so I want to write it down and sort through them, find the most useful ones. Since it's not too much active magic, what power high I get shouldn't be too bad."

"I'll help you. Dictation, and rein you in if you get too loopy."

"That's fair, thanks."

 **oOo**

After breakfast, Webby reported to Lena's room with a notebook, and Lena took up the Hand of Phobos. She took a deep breath before donning it.

As per usual, she felt the rush of power shooting through her body. She felt her mind open up, started seeing the world in new ways. This was the gift and curse of the Hand of Phobos. She could see the life energies of everything around her, the weft of the magical field of the planet. For brief moments, she could see the world as a god sees it.

It really was quite beautiful.

A pillar of pink light floated in front of her, bright and warm and so, so _good_. It took Lena a second or two, but she reined the power in. The brightness of the world around her faded as her vision slipped back down to mortal levels, and Webby came into focus.

"Lena, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Lena said, blinking, "Just growing pains. Still not fully used to the power this thing gives me."

She didn't talk about what she saw. She never did and likely never would. No one would understand. Not even Webby, as smart and pure and _good_ as she was, would be able to fully process what was said, and Lena wasn't sure she even could accurately describe it. Even her own thoughts on it seemed to fall far short of what she was trying to describe.

Lena shook her head, banishing the train of thought, and clapped her hands.

"Right, so summons."

"Yeah, how is this going to work again? Are you just going to bring them out one at a time, or—"

"That would take forever, and some of them are very large. You remember the hydra, right?"

"Are you saying there are things in there _bigger_ than the hydra?" Webby gasped.

"Might be."

Lena traced a finger down the gauntlet, coming to a stop upon the gem. She pressed down, muttering.

"Show me the faces of fear. Show me the monsters."

She lifted her finger, and light began to spill from the glowing gem. The light arced up and split, threads falling all over the room. Little bubbles of light grew upon the threads like fruit on a tree. Some of the beads of light were alone, some were clustered together. The light stopped spilling from the gauntlet, and the two ducks were left under a web of light.

Webby gawked at the sight, her jaw dropped.

"Wow…it's so pretty," she whispered.

This was a part of magic that Lena liked. The wonder, the beauty of it. She often looked at the world with jaded eyes, but Webby had fresh eyes. Showing magic to her surrogate sister gave Lena hope for the future, hope that she could be a mage on the side of light.

"Right, so let's get started," Lena said, taking hold of one of the bubbles.

The bubble grew from the size of a marble to the side of an apple, and showed the image of a minotaur. Lena laughed a bit at the sight.

"Of course he's first."

"You know, maybe we should give names to the ones you think you'll use the most," Webby said, "Parse them out from the others."

"Not bad, and since I'll definitely be using the minotaur for muscle…Buford."

"Buford: minotaur, major muscle," Webby said as she wrote, "Okay, let's keep going."

They spent the morning like that, occasionally summoning the smaller ones for closer inspection. Some names went well…

"It's a raven."

"Didn't that chief god in Viking myth have ravens? I think I heard that somewhere."

"Odin had two ravens that served as his spies," Webby recited, "Huginn and Muninn, Thought and Memory."

"I like Huginn better. Think he'll be a good spy?"

The raven, which had been summoned for a better inspection, cawed, as if insulted by the doubt.

Some didn't go so well…

"Lena, it's an Erymanthian Boar, the same kind of thing that Storkules fought for one of his legendary labors! There has to be a better name than PIG!"

"I really can't think of anything else!"

Some were obvious…

"Like I'm going to name a three-headed dog anything else but Cerberus!"

Some were more clever…

"A Stymphalian Bird has razor feathers, right? Sharp."

And so the list went on…

"That's the third bird," Webby said, "We've already got one for spying and one for slashing—"

"And this one will be for burning," Lena said, rolling the orb showing a phoenix around in her hand, "Firebird."

"Little on the nose, but okay. I heard that phoenixes had healing tears…"

Lena concentrated on the orb, as if reading it, then shook her head.

"Nada. Probably because it's a summon of the gauntlet and not an _actual_ phoenix."

"Okay then," Webby said, making a note, "Any other birds I can group up?"

"I think this one's a harpy," Lena said, picking a new bubble, "Looks like it's big and strong enough to carry two people. Nice."

"Red feathers, that's interesting," Webby said, looking at the image, "I think I read a book once that had a red-feathered harpy."

"It have a name?"

"She called herself Ella."

"That'll do, then."

"What's this cluster over here?"

"I think it's the several zombies."

"Oh yeah, I remember them," Webby said, poking at the tiny balls clustered like a bunch of grapes, "Maybe we should record them collectively, since they probably work best in a horde."

"The Dirty Dozen it is!"

Webby snickered a bit, but wrote the name down.

Lena looked through the beads of light for a new one, and chose at random.

"Oh, cute! A little fox."

"Can you summon him like the raven?"

Lena did so, and a fox with pure white fur appeared.

"Hello, beautiful," Webby cooed.

The fox inspected her with icy-blue eyes, then padded over and rubbed up against her.

"Aw, it likes me!"

"You're easy to like," Lena laughed, "But she does have good taste."

"She?"

"My summon, I can tell.

"So what can she do, then?"

The fox made a growling noise, and then barked. A frigid breeze whipped through the room. Tiny spikes of ice erupted from the feet of the fox, and an icy wind flowed from her breath.

"She makes ice, apparently," Lena said as the cold stopped, the fox looking very pleased with herself.

"Elsa, then?"

"Too on the nose. Hang on."

Lena retrieved her phone and plugged something into the search engine.

"This one looks promising. Skadi, the Nordic goddess of winter."

"That's not bad."

The fox hummed, bouncing a bit.

"I think she likes it," Lena laughed, "Skadi it is!"

Lena dismissed the fox after a brief pet, then summoned Firebird the phoenix to warm the room back up and thaw the ice.

"So who's next?" Webby asked after the fiery summon took its leave.

Lena looked through the bubbles, then stopped at one. Inspecting it, an evil smile spread across her face.

"Oh, Hell yes…"

 **oOo**

Scrooge was drawn by the sound of manic cackling, and followed it to its source. Lena and Webby were racing down the hall, laughing like loons.

"Webbigail, I thought you were supposed to rein Lena in?" Scrooge grunted.

Webby ignored him, and the girls raced past.

"Hey!" he shouted after them, "What is going on?"

Lena doubled back and started to drag Scrooge along with them.

"Hold on to your hat, Uncle Scrooge. The Hand comes with a Godzilla Threshold!"

"A what?"

Scrooge ended up getting dragged outside, where the boys had been lounging by the pool and Donald was sweeping the deck of the boathouse.

"Where's the fire?" Huey asked.

"You're going to want to see this summon yourself!" Webby squealed.

"Clear a space!" Lena shouted, pointing the gauntlet at a large portion of the yard.

Light poured off the Hand, casting a giant shadow that swiftly took shape.

"Webby and Gentlemen, I give you the Hand's biggest and baddest summon…"

Claws bigger than a duck that glinted like sharpened spears. Serrated teeth the size of swords. Golden scales that shone like the sun. A wingspan to rival the Sunchaser. Eyes like searchlights. A basso growl that rattled bones. Smoke leaked from its nostrils like a factory furnace, and its tail twitched along the ground, sending rumbles through the earth from the force.

"AN ENOURMOUS F*CK YOU DRAGON!"

Lena cackled like a madwoman as everyone else stared up at the massive mountain of scaly doom.

Scrooge's jaw was dropped. Donald quacked in fright. The boys went from shock to elation at the sight.

"That…is…AWESOME!" Dewey cried out.

"I KNOW, RIGHT?" Lena shouted back, "I'MMA CALL HIM SMAUG!"

"OF COURSE YOU ARE, HE LOOKS LIKE HE COULD EAT SOMEONE IN ONE BITE!" Huey yelped.

"THIS IS SO AMAZING!" Webby yelled.

"WHY ARE WE ALL STILL SHOUTING?" Louie asked.

The dragon, for his part, simply yawned. The full showcase of teeth was the last straw for Donald, and he made a choking sound before fainting.

Scrooge gave the giggling Lena a side-eye.

"You don't happen to have a sea serpent too, do you?"

"Yes, but he's a lot smaller. He can spit streams of boiling water, though. I think I named that one Tempest."

Scrooge just sighed and walked back inside.

"Kids…"

He was never going to tell them that he thought the idea of a pet dragon sounded amazing.

 **oOo**

The mansion actually had two kitchens. The main one near the dining room that everyone used, and a smaller one in another wing. What it had been used for, even Scrooge had forgotten, meaning it was perfect for Lena's purposes.

Dewey found her in there, standing over a bubbling cauldron. As he watched, she took it off the stove and set it on a stone on the counter. She then picked up a pair of porcupine quills and added them to the mixture, breaking them over the cauldron before dropping them in.

He waited until she had finished before getting her attention.

"What are you doing?"

"Potion-making, what's it look like?" Lena replied, not looking away from her work.

"Potion-making?"

Lena stirred her concoction a few times before speaking.

"You know that wicca shop I go to? The Magic Box?"

"Yeah?"

"It doesn't just serve hippies or tourists. They do a brisk business selling to actual magic users. There's an apothecary of magical ingredients in back. They also sell ready-made potions."

Lena stopped stirring, inspecting the potion. A pinkish smoke rose from the pale blue liquid, and she nodded in affirmation before walking over to a collection of small bottles by the sink.

"I got a job as a supplier. It's freelance stuff, but they're always looking for people to provide ingredients or potions."

"You don't need a license for that sort of thing?" Dewey asked.

"Ideally, but mostly, you just have to prove you know what you're doing. So long as the potions meet certain levels of quality, they'll take it."

Lena began to ladle the potion into the small bottles, stoppering them once full.

"What is that, anyway? Specifically?"

"Boil cure. Do me a favor and put the stoppered ones in that box there."

Dewey followed Lena's finger, seeing a box on the far counter. Looking inside, he saw several carboard dividers, no doubt to keep the bottles in place during transit.

Dewey helped Lena package the bottles, then helped clean her instruments for the next potion.

"There's a lot more room in that box," Dewey said as they cleaned.

"That's because I'm also making some Essence of Dittany. Good for cuts."

"Maybe we ought to keep some of that, then, considering what we get up to."

"I'm making a large batch," Lena said wryly.

"Does Uncle Scrooge know about this?"

"I asked for a space to make this stuff, and he showed me this extra kitchen. He's on board with it. Said it was good I was getting into industrious habits at a young age."

Lena gave a smirk.

"The fact that I gave him a potion for easing arthritis pains as proof-of-concept probably helped, too."

Dewey began snickering.

"Yeah, after all his complaints about magic in the past, he's certainly getting used to having a witch in the house," Lena laughed.

 **oOo**

"So what's this project?" Webby asked.

"I've spent the last two weeks testing the Hand of Phobos in various ways," Lena said, "Different branches of magic, recording the summons, little tricks to get used to the power, etcetera. Right now, I want to test it with a magic type I've already more-or-less mastered: Telekinesis."

"So again, what are we doing?"

"Giving me a challenge."

They walked into the mansion's library, and Lena zeroed in on a set of shelves.

"These books aren't old or valuable. So if they get damaged, they can be replaced. We're going to take all the books down, and then I'm going to re-shelve them."

"We have permission to do this, right?"

"I asked your grandma, and she said it was fine so long as we clean up after ourselves…which considering the goal of this exercise…"

Lena began taking books off the shelf. Webby shrugged and joined her.

In no time, all the books on the tall shelf had been taken down. There were almost a hundred books on the floor and tables, all mixed up.

Lena took a deep breath as she put on the gauntlet.

"Okay, hit the music."

Webby hit play on Lena's phone, and the pre-chosen song wafted into the air. The plucking of strings echoed through the library as several books glowed and began to float.

Lena scanned titles as she put the books back, making sure they were sorted correctly. Volumes swirled around her as she worked, the train of literature never slowing.

In fact, it began to speed up in time to the music. The escalating pounding of the beat set off a chain reaction. Lena began bobbing her body along to the beat, and her pace of work grew faster.

More and more books lifted into the air, swirling around the young witch like planets around a sun. Re-shelving continued at a rapid pace, ever increasing.

As the music exploded into a higher tempo, Lena's movements did as well. She began pointing to places on the shelf, and several books hit their designated places at once in time to her gestures. Her eyes rapidly scanned the covers, her mind processing the information and reacting quickly.

Webby watched in awe. Lena's work had reached a fever pitch, the process of grab, scan, place having reached a point where she didn't have to think very hard. It did not escape the younger duck's attention that the music had been helping Lena's tempo, and now that it was getting faster, so was she.

As the song reached its final crescendo, the final books hit the shelf, and Lena's arms thrust down like a conductor ceasing the orchestra's music.

Webby applauded.

She wasn't the only one.

Both girls jumped and whirled around, spotting Scrooge in the doorway with a smile on his face.

"My choice would have been 'Sorcerer's Apprentice' rather than 'Hall of the Mountain King', but it was still an excellent show, lass."

Lena chuckled nervously. Scrooge just kept smiling knowingly.

"So…you pass your self-imposed test?"

"More or less…"

"Good, good. It's important to enjoy your work," he said, "Any problems with power high?"

"Not at the moment. I think I'm getting used to the Hand. Of course, even if it was intense magic, it's only been on for about four minutes."

"Well, I trust you to know your own limits, and I trust Webby to help you keep track of your mental state. Carry on, girls."

He walked off, then suddenly stuck his head back into the room.

"Incidentally, if you're looking to keep exercising, there's a section of paperbacks you can use. Back left corner. You can weed out the more damaged ones as you work, Duckworth and I can look over them later to decide which to try to save. Have fun."

He then vanished. Webby and Lena looked at each other, then burst out laughing.

Of course, they ended up having so much fun doing the re-shelving trick to various music tracks that Lena ended up creeping into a power high. Webby realized what was going on when Lena began muttering about romance novels, and they took a break after that.

"Little at a time, little every day," Lena said after recovering.

* * *

 _If you want a version of Hall of the Mountain King, I recommend Epica. Nice mix of classical orchestra and modern rock. Bonus, it seems exactly the sort of version Lena might listen to._


	11. To the Moon!

_Sorry I've been quiet for a while, guys. My mom broke her foot, so it's been a little crazy these past few weeks. But here we are.  
_

 _And yes. We're doing this._ _And we're doing it in the longest chapter to date. Strap in, everybody. This is going to be a ride!_

 __Oh, and thanks to William Shakespeare and Gavin 'Miracle of Sound' Dunne._ _

* * *

**Freedom from Fear**

Chapter 11

To the Moon!

The Sword of Selene was finally complete. While not as maneuverable as its parent, the Spear of Selene, what with having smaller wings, it made up for it by having a large cockpit, capable of holding more people, and a more powerful engine, able to reach greater speeds. All and all, it was perfect for retrieving someone from the moon and bringing all parties back safely.

Scrooge and Donald were going some final checks with Gyro Gearloose. Given the delicacy of the mission and the requirements for smooth landings, the inventor would be coming as their pilot instead of Launchpad.

Launchpad took it well, only crying for a minute or so about not being able to go to space.

The conditions for launch were right, the systems were in place, the gear was packed, and the Buzzard Brothers had no idea that any of this was going on.

There was just one little problem…

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE CAN'T COME?" the triplets yelled in unison.

"This is a dangerous mission," Donald said, "Even if there are all sorts of safety checks, it's still too big for you kids. You're staying planetside with Launchpad and Mrs. B. And that's the end of it."

Uncle Scrooge said much the same.

"I've already lost one family member to the blackness of space," he said, "I won't be losing more if I can help it. Even though we know where to go, it's still a dangerous mission. You lot are staying here."

The triplets sulked at that.

"I get that it's dangerous," Huey said as he and his brothers rejoined Lena and Webby, "But it's our _mom!_ "

"Hey, I get it, Red," Lena said, "If I'd heard my mother was alive, I'd be moving heaven and earth to get to her."

"Any chance you can poof us onto the ship?" Louie asked.

"No," Lena replied, suddenly serious, "Teleporting is a very advanced branch of magic, and very dangerous if you don't have someone teaching you. It's not self-study _at all_. The horror stories I've heard of people who tried to do it on their own would make you lose a week of sleep."

"And because Magica didn't have power herself to demonstrate or fix accidents, she never taught you," Webby guessed.

Lena snapped her fingers and pointed at her little sister.

"Okay then," Dewey said, "So we need to get onto the Sword without Uncle Donald or Uncle Scrooge knowing until it's too late. We can't rely on magic, and there's little doubt that Beakley will be watching us to make sure we don't get up to anything."

"I can handle Granny," Webby offered, "I'll just tell her you three are sulking in the bathroom or something."

"Then I can help her sneak away and join you," Lena said.

"But we still need to get on the rocket," Dewey argued.

A throat clearing caught their attention, and they turned to see Gyro.

"You kids should really have plotted in a more private place," he said bluntly.

The children groaned, Lena in particular cursing that she didn't put up a 'cone of silence' spell. Gyro just motioned them over and showed them his tablet.

"You kids want to see something cool? Data readouts for our target location."

Huey noticed it first.

"Hey, wait a minute…"

"Smart looking, kid. Satellite imagery and magical scrying have discovered that the targeted area is an anomaly upon the moon. This strange blue area seems to have structures upon it. And if the calculations are true, there's a contained artificial atmosphere. Probably not a lot in the way of oxygen, hence the special masks I've created for the job, but at least enough air pressure that there shouldn't be any need for a bulky suit for protection."

"And if you're wrong?" asked Huey.

"Scrooge, Donald, and I have suits just in case. You'll have to stay on the ship."

"Wait, we?" Dewey asked.

Gyro smiled.

"Be by the fuel trucks in ten minutes. I'll sneak you all aboard and give you your own masks."

The children looked at each other, hope and excitement on the faces.

"Thanks for this, Gyro," Louie said.

"Hey, it's your mom," Gyro shrugged.

The scientist walked off, leaving the children to chatter excitedly.

"Okay, okay, okay! Focus," Huey said, "We need to get ready."

"I'll make a show," Louie said, "Webby, you distract Beakley. Dewey, you have Launchpad. Lena, you make sure you have the Hand. We might end up needing it."

As the children broke to perform their duties, a charge seemed to fill them.

They were going to the moon. They were going to rescue Della Duck.

 **oOo**

Webby and Lena slipped down the halls, invisible. They only had a few minutes to rendezvous with the boys, and every second counted.

As they turned a corner, however, they stopped at the sight of a wolf leaning against the wall.

"Lena Le Strange," he said, staring right where they were.

"Phobos," Lena replied.

"You can lift your spell, I have us covered."

Lena did so, and stared unflinchingly at the God of Fear. Webby was struck with shock.

"Er…hi, I'm Webby."

"I'm aware," Phobos replied, "I keep tabs on people with exceptional courage. And by my estimates, you two are off to rescue one such person."

"What about it?" Lena asked.

"I merely urge caution, but not for the reasons Scrooge McDuck has. Mine concerns my creation, the gauntlet you now bear."

Lena flicked her gaze down onto her arm, taking in the Hand of Phobos.

"What about it? I won its allegiance fair and square."

"Yes, you did. Which is why I came with a warning. The gauntlet was forged by me, a god. As such, it has unique ties to this world's magical fields, as all weapons of its type do. You are taking it on an adventure that will take you away from this world…and away from the full strength of its magical fields."

Lena's eyes went wide.

"Ah, now you see."

"What's going to happen?" Lena asked, eyeing her gauntlet like most people eye grenades.

"I don't know. The moon has a magical field of its own, but one far different from Earth's. Your magic might react differently. Any creature you summon might be twisted and altered into a different type of horror. Or maybe it won't. Or maybe the Hand might not even work at all. There are simply too many unknowns."

Lena stared at the Hand for a moment, pondering. But she soon shook her head.

"That's not going to stop me. My family is flying into danger to rescue one of their own. I have to help them."

Phobos smiled lightly.

"I thought that might be the case, I just wanted you to be well-informed. Very well, good luck then."

They blinked, and he was gone.

"Lena, what was that about?" Webby asked.

"I've got someone looking out for me," Lena replied, taking Webby's hand and renewing the invisibility spell, "Come on, we've got no time to lose."

The girls slipped out of the building and onto the tarmac. In the distance, the rocket stood tall. A hose ran from it to a truck, and they made their way there.

Huey, Dewey, and Louie were hidden beneath it, waiting. Webby and Lena rolled underneath beside them, Lena cutting her invisibility spell.

"Neat trick," Dewey said.

"Pretty draining, though," Lena replied, slipping off the gauntlet for a moment.

"So how are we doing this?" Webby asked.

Before they could answer, they saw Gyro's legs come into view.

"I assume you're under the truck," they heard him say, "I convinced Scrooge and Donald to grab a few snacks in case this trip takes longer than expected. We should be able to reach the moon within half a day with my engine enhancements, but we might end up going slower in case of space debris. There's a storage chamber under the floor of the cockpit, you can hide in there."

Gyro then walked off, either to check something or give himself plausible deniability. Probably both.

The kids raced up the ladder and into the rocket. Dewey pried open the hinged panel on the floor of the cockpit, and they all climbed in.

"Good thing we're small," Louie said.

"Speak for yourself," Lena replied.

"Hope the extra weight doesn't throw off the rocket's trajectory," Huey said.

"I overheard Uncle Scrooge and Gyro talking about how this thing has a more powerful engine than the Spear," Webby said, "The additional weight we provide shouldn't be too much for it"

The five squeezed into the compartment, closing it behind them.

"Quit shoving!"

"Watch your knee."

"Webby, your bow's in my face."

"When was the last time you washed this hoodie?"

" _Whose hand is that?_ " Lena growled suddenly.

"Sorry…"

"You're lucky I can't slug you."

 **oOo**

The rumbling of the Sword of Selene beneath their feet was oddly soothing, in Scrooge's opinion.

"What's our status, Gyro?"

"I'd say we're about halfway there," Gyro replied.

"It's actually really pretty out here," Donald said.

"If you like that sort of thing. I've never been one for aesthetics."

"Which explains the stark white look of Gizmoduck, I suppose," Scrooge said.

"White is clean."

A thump suddenly echoed through the cockpit.

"What was that?" Donald squawked.

"What was what?" Gyro asked.

Scrooge, however, felt it where he was standing, and pulled open the panel.

"Curse me kilts!"

"Hi, Uncle Scrooge," the triplets and Webby chorused nervously.

"Sup?" Lena said.

They could just see the part where his mind burst into flame.

"Are you all mad? I specifically forbade you from coming along on this mission!"

"This is our _mom_ we're talking about!" Dewey shouted back, "We need to be here!"

"You don't need to be anywhere except for back home!" Donald screamed, "Gyro, turn us around."

"We've been flying for hours, we're already halfway there, and you want to turn around?" Gyro scoffed, "We turn back now, we won't have enough fuel for a trip to the moon, and your sister will have to wait even longer. It's too late to turn back now. Good thing I brought a few extra facemasks…"

Donald saw red.

"It…was…YOU!"

"Don't look at me, I didn't see them get onto the ship."

Donald reached out, his hands ready to strangle Gyro, but Scrooge and the boys held him back.

"Uncle Donald, let him live!"

"Donald, we still need him to pilot this thing!"

"This is actually kind of fun to watch," Lena said, swinging out of the hole herself.

"You're terrible, Lena," Webby replied, but Lena could see a small gleam of mischief in her eye.

' _I am rubbing off in her_ ,' she thought.

Eventually, Donald calmed, but glared at the children with undisguised anger. Scrooge, having spent some of his energy holding his nephew back, seemed to resign himself to this.

"Fine, what's done is done, I can admit that," he said, "But if you're going to be coming, you're to follow my orders exactly, no arguments. Space isn't a playground."

The children nodded, and Louie spoke up.

"We have a chance to finally meet our mom. I don't think there's anything that could have stopped us."

"Lena and I are just here for support," Webby said, "It's important to them, so it's important to us."

Scrooge sighed.

"I want her back too…Gyro, any chance we can speed this up?"

"We've skirted that debris field I was worried about, so sure," Gyro replied, easing forward a throttle.

 **oOo**

The rocket slowly touched down upon the surface.

"We're on the moon," Huey breathed, looking out the window over the dusty surroundings.

The rocky expanse they had landed on had a bluish tint to it. It was light, but it was there, coating the dust and rock and mixing with the expected gray hues. The Earth loomed in the sky, an impressive sight to behold.

"Not gonna lie, this is a really cool feeling," Lena said.

"Let's get out there!" Dewey cried, "One small step for a duck, one giant le—EEP!"

"Hold your horses, lad," Scrooge said, yanking the young duck back with his cane, "This is completely new territory. We have to be smart about this."

"I was going to wait for you!"

"Like you did in Atlantis?" Webby deadpanned.

"What happened in Atlantis?" Lena asked.

"He ran in as soon as deathtraps were mentioned."

"He did what?" Donald growled.

"Traitor," Dewey grunted.

Gyro loudly cleared his throat.

"So, as I have previously explained, it was theorized from the evidence that this blue area of the moon had some kind of atmosphere, for some inexplicable reason. Something to investigate as we explore, perhaps. Looking at the instruments installed in the Sword, I can deduce that we indeed will not need the standard suits. The overall barometric pressure appears to be low, rather like the thin, high-altitude air of particularly high mountaintops."

"Then the masks were a good idea, Gyro," Scrooge said, "Della must have gotten very used to the thin air if she's been here for this long."

"I hope she'll be able to adapt back to normal air," Huey said, "She might experience a type of reverse altitude sickness."

"That's a thing?" Louie asked, "I thought it only happened from high to low."

"Low to high is rarer, for obvious reasons, but it does happen. We'll have to watch her carefully as we're bringing her home."

"Cross that bridge when we come to it," Donald said, opening a compartment and passing around the masks.

The masks were made of a clear substance, like plastic but clearly not, with a small tank strapped to the underside. It fit easily over their beaks, and had attached goggles to protect the eyes.

Louie made exaggerated breathing noises as he strapped his on.

"Dewey…I am your brother," he intoned in a deep voice.

"Your impression stinks," Dewey shot back, shoving his brother lightly.

"Alright kids, here's the plan," Scrooge said, "Donald, Gyro, and I will scout the area, get a lay of the land. We'll start a search pattern after that."

"Hopefully Della saw the rocket, though, and this'll be a short trip," Donald said.

"Come now, nephew. When has it ever been that easy?"

"So we're staying with the ship?" Louie asked, frowning.

Scrooge and Donald gave him a glare that brooked no argument.

"If you're not back in an hour, we're coming after you," Lena said, glaring right back.

"You don't know what's out there," Scrooge argued.

" _Exactly_."

Scrooge grumbled, but nodded.

"I'll be sure to set my watch, then."

 **oOo**

Dewey took a swan dive off the top of the rocket. As he fell through the air, he twisted about. He hit the ground with both feet and launched himself back upward, gaining impressive air.

"Ya-HOO!"

"Watch how high you go, Dewey! The low gravity means coming back down is a lot harder to do!" Huey shouted, bouncing in place himself.

"You guys know that if you start to drift too far, I can yank you back telekinetically, right?" Lena asked, laying in the blue-tinted dust and stargazing.

"Take the picture already, Louie," Webby said, her arms held high.

"Just trying to get the right angle so it looks like you're holding the Earth," Louie said, "Ah, here we go."

He clicked his phone.

"I think that's going to come out great."

"When we get home, I want to see if we can print it," Webby said, "That thing's going on my wall."

"Hope you have a good frame for it."

"I've got an idea in mind."

Lena kept on stargazing, enjoying the peace and the light sound of the younger children's laughter. It often surprised her how quickly she'd integrated into life in the extended McDuck clan. Where once coldness and silence were the order of the day, now warmth and laughter filled her life. She found that the mere sound of Webby or the triplets was soothing to her nerves.

And after today, there would hopefully be more reasons for joy in the mansion.

Lena checked her facemask for the fifth time since putting it on, mostly out of paranoia. While there was some air in this strange blue area was breathable, it was barely so. Dewey had tested it out of curiosity, and found that he could barely breathe. Lena was of the opinion that Della Duck was made of iron if she had stood such an atmosphere for a decade.

Lena then pulled her sleeve back a bit, looking at her watch.

"That's an hour," she said aloud, getting up, "Blue, you spot the scouting party?"

Dewey took to the air again, coming back down in a crouch with a frown on his face.

"Nothing. We're alone out here."

"They should have been back by now," Huey said.

"Okay, then," Webby said, "Huey, send a message back home. Tell them what happened and that we're going out to look."

"I sent an update on us as Uncle Scrooge was heading off, so Beakley should be expecting it," Lena said.

"Lena, think you can manage a tracking spell?"

"We'll find out."

Huey went into the rocket to send the message. He came back with the Hand of Phobos.

"Here's hoping," Lena said, taking it from him.

"Why so unsure?" Louie asked, "We helped you practice tracking spells before."

"That was on Earth," Webby said, "Before we joined you to sneak onto the rocket, Phobos appeared to us. He warned Lena that taking the Hand beyond Earth's magical field would have strange consequences."

"Consequences as in?" Huey asked.

"As in the gauntlet might not work, or the magic might twist in weird ways," Lena replied, "Or maybe it'll work fine. We won't know until we try."

Lena slid the gauntlet on…

And immediately frowned. There was no rush of power, no opening of her sight and mind. It was like slipping on a glove, and that was it.

She tried to cast a simple spell for light. Nothing happened.

"Oh Tartarus…"

"Nothing doing?" Webby asked.

"Not even a spark of power," Lena replied.

"Then we search the old-fashioned way," Dewey said, "Let's go, guys. Lena, you keep poking at the Hand, maybe it'll react somehow."

"I plan to."

And the five began to walk.

 **oOo**

The blue area of the moon was not lifeless.

While the surface was barren, only a few rock-like protrusions that almost resembled structures, there was an extensive tunnel system beneath, an underground city that, while not a New York, was of the kind of scale of Chicago or Duckburg.

The population was reptilian, scaly and bipedal. Their technology wasn't too dissimilar from Earth's, but they had weapons and robotics that were sufficiently sci-fi for the situation.

It was these beings that had taken Scrooge, Donald, and Gyro by surprise. The ducks were swiftly overwhelmed and captured, and brought into the city and a palatial structure that was no doubt home to the ruler of the city.

"So, how many times being captured does this make?" Donald asked as they were led down the halls by uniformed reptiles.

"At least over a hundred, I've lost count," Scrooge replied, "You?"

"About seventy-three."

"I think this is my first time," Gyro said pleasantly, before frowning heavily, "I don't like it!"

"You'll get used to it," Scrooge and Donald chorused.

They finally arrived in a spacious room. Reclined in a throne at the other end was a reptile dressed in fine clothing. His slit-eyed stare was harsh, and there was a spark of madness in his eye.

The ducks were thrown at the feet of the regal reptile, who spoke in a tongue not dissimilar from their own.

"So…what do we have here? Spies? Invaders from the blue ball?"

The king grasped Donald's beak, lifting his face up roughly.

"This one resembles the White Ghost. That creature…has she brought more enemies to my kingdom? Is it not enough that she defies my rule? That she wages war against my order? Now she has brought allies?"

The king shoved Donald to the ground.

"NO! I shall have no more dissidents! I shall prove that I remain strong against all enemies of my rule!"

Scrooge opened his mouth, but the king had already turned to his guards.

"Take them to the dungeons! They shall be publicly executed come the morn. Perhaps that will lure out the Ghost."

"Now wait a minute!" Scrooge shouted, only for the king to motion a guard.

"You will be silent!" the king cried as the guard struck Scrooge.

The guards dragged the struggling prisoners away.

"None shall challenge the rule of Maximus," the king growled, "NONE!"

 **oOo**

"It almost looks like a house," Webby said, looking at the rocky structure before them.

"What are the odds that there are aliens here?" Louie said.

"Aliens? Get real," Lena scoffed.

"Says the witch."

Lena sputtered.

"I'm just saying, we've been all over the blue area, and there's no sign of Uncle Scrooge. What tracks we saw ended in a lot of messed up sand."

"Louie's got a point," Huey said, "At this point, we can't rule out foul play."

"But aliens on the moon?" Lena asked.

"There's an atmosphere here. It's not a very good one, but it's here."

"That still doesn't—"

Then the rock opened up nearby, disgorging several figures, which aimed weapons at them.

"Halt, invaders!"

The children put their hands up.

"You were saying, Lena?"

"Shut up, Red."

There were three armored beings and three floating metal forms, robots. All aimed dangerous looking rifles at them.

"More strange creatures," the lead being said in a high-pitched voice, "Bind them."

"Yes ma'am!" the other two said.

They and the robots encircled the children. Webby shifted her foot, but Lena noticed and hissed at her.

"We're outnumbered and outgunned. Don't do anything rash."

Webby frowned.

"So you just want us to surrender?"

"They have guns, and the Hand isn't working. Better to let them win for now and figure out a way to escape later."

"No whispering!" the lead guard ordered.

"Ma'am, this is the second group that's been captured today. They must have a vessel somewhere."

"I'm aware. Let's get them settled, then send the warbots to scout. Should have done that earlier…"

Suddenly, a small object flew out of nowhere and attached to the robot behind the ducks. A burst of electricity ripped through it, and it fell to the ground, sparking.

Another object hit the ground, exploding into smoke.

Something pushed the children down to the ground. They could barely make out a form stealing the rifle from the fallen robot and using it to blast the other two to pieces.

Two guardsmen tried to charge it, but were swiftly defeated. The figure moved like lightning, striking hard and in exact places to take them down, using the stolen weapon like a baton in addition to her fists.

"The White Ghost!" the lead guard hissed.

She stumbled through the smoke towards the children, her weapon raised.

"Surrender, Ghost! Or I blast the—"

The muzzle of a gun poked her chest and she stopped dead.

The last of the smoke cleared…

"Get away from them, you bitch!"

There was a sound like thunder, and the guard was sent flying. She slammed to the ground and didn't move.

The White Ghost was a duck. She wore a tattered pilot's jacket, one sleeve gone and the other more patches than sleeve. An equally tattered blue scarf was wrapped around her neck. Her wrists and hands were wrapped for protection, as were her feet. Her feathers were in dire need of a preening, and her hair hung long and unkempt.

She lifted her goggles and stared at the children, almost unsure of what she was seeing.

But she knew. Deep in the depths of her soul, she _knew._

Of the boys, Dewey realized it first. He saw those same eyes in the mirror every morning. The other two weren't far behind him.

The face was creased with age and harsh experience, but it was still one they had burned into their brains for a lifetime, a face they never thought they'd see in real life.

"Mom?" Dewey breathed.

"Boys?" Della all but whispered.

The triplets practically flew the last few feet between them. The force of their charge knocked Della over, but no one cared.

Huey, Dewey, and Louie hugged their mother for the first time. Della wrapped her arms around her sons tightly, as if afraid they would disappear if she let go.

Tears of indescribable joy watered the dusty ground of the moon that day.

"You're alive, you're alive!" Louie gasped.

"Oh my God, I heard Scrooge's message, but I didn't think…oh GOD, you're actually here," Della said, trailing off into excited squeaks.

Huey was at a complete loss for words, just making soft quacks and crying his eyes out.

"We found you," Dewey kept saying, "We found you."

Webby and Lena shuffled awkwardly, both feeling like they were intruding. And then Della lurched over to them, still holding onto Huey and Louie, with Dewey latched onto her chest like a limpet, and somehow yanked the girls into the hug too.

"You two, get in here!"

Webby and Lena squawked as they joined the crush.

"Uh, ma'am, we're not actually related to you…"

"Yeah, we just came along for the ride, help out and all-"

"Don'tcaretoohappyEVERYBODYGETSHUGS!"

They stayed like that for a while, and then they heard a groan from one of the guardsmen.

Della immediately ended the hug, picking up the rifle she'd been using and jerking her head.

"Come on, let's get to safety. We can continue this once we're out of the open," she said, her face serious.

She rushed away, the children right behind her. A ways away, she pushed aside a rock, revealing a hole.

"In here," she said, jerking her rifle toward it.

Everyone piled in, Della sealing their entrance shut behind them.

"Where are we?" Huey asked.

"Old service tunnel," Della said, pulling her goggles down, "Hardly anyone comes here. One of my hideouts is nearby, it should be safe."

She took the lead, sweeping any corners with her rifle. Through the darkness they went, Della seemingly unaffected.

"How can you even see?" Dewey asked.

"It's the goggles. The lenses are a special polymer."

"Neat," Webby said, "I have a pair of night vision goggles myself, but I left them at home."

"Night vision goggles? Oh, I'm going to like you," Della laughed.

They finally stopped at a door half-hidden by a metal sheet.

"Here's our stop. Get in, quick."

The boys quickly pulled aside the metal sheet and entered, followed by Webby. Lena and Della kept an eye around, then slipped in themselves, Della pulling the metal over their entrance before fully closing the door.

"Great, now it's even darker," Louie said.

There was a click, and light poured into the room from an old lamp on the ceiling.

"You're welcome," Della said, setting the rifle against the wall.

"What is this place?" Huey asked.

The room was barely bigger than a motel room. There was a cot in one corner covered in threadbare blankets, a basket with some old shirts next to it. On a table was a half-assembled radio, along with a disassembled laser rifle and a scattering of tools.

"Old power station, long out of use," Della replied, taking off her goggles, "No one uses this tunnel anymore, so this was perfect for me. It's not much, but it's a place to hang my hat, one of several I've got scattered around. But my part of the story can wait. I want to hear about you all."

"Like?"

"Well, mother of the year question, but I'd like to know my children's names. Did Donald use my idea list or make up some of his own?"

"Interesting how you just assumed Donald raised them," Lena said.

"Pah! Of course he did, I told him flat out that if anything ever happened to me, he'd get custody. Had paperwork drawn up and everything the second I found out I was pregnant. With my lifestyle, I didn't want to take any chances."

"Well, I'm Hubert, but everyone calls me Huey."

"Dewford, but I prefer Dewey."

"Louie."

"That your actual name, or a nickname like your brothers?" Della asked.

"Yes."

Della just stared at him, one eyebrow raised.

"Wait, you already have a mom look? How is that possible? This is the first time we've met!"

"I practiced in the mirror. Grandma gave me tips."

Louie was silent, so Della turned her gaze to the other two.

"His real name's Llewelyn."

Lena snickered, while Louie gaped at Huey.

"Dude! Not cool!"

"What, she's our mom!"

"Well, now we know who would give up under torture first," Webby said.

"Why would you need to know that? On second thought, don't answer that," Lena responded.

"And who are your lady friends?" Della asked with a smirk, "Anything I should know about them?"

Her smile said it all.

"No way!" the triplets chorused.

"Webby's like a sister, and so's Lena," Dewey said.

"And I'm pretty sure if one of us did try something, Lena would turn him into a frog," Louie deadpanned.

"A newt, more likely," Lena said, "But you'd get better."

"Lena, I presume," Della said, holding in a chuckle.

"Yo. Before you ask about the newt comment, I'm magic."

"And I'm Webby! Hi!"

"She's a tiny spy."

"Interesting company you boys are keeping," Della laughed.

"Well what about you?" Huey asked, "Not every day you find out your mom's some kind of half-feral vigilante alien fighter."

"Well, at least I'm not boring."

Della's smile seemed forced, and she soon dropped it. Regret was writ large on her face.

"Right…I suppose I owe some kind of explanation…it started ten years ago…"

"With the Spear of Selene," Dewey said.

"Know about that part, do you?"

Dewey was silent, but he looked sad.

"Well, I've often cursed the day I ever came up with that thing. But yes, it started when I stole it and went right into a cosmic storm. Like an idiot. Wish I could go back in time just to smack myself upside the head. I should have turned back the second I saw the signs, but I was too full of stupid pride."

Della scoffed.

"Seems to be our family's fatal flaw."

"You have no idea," Lena muttered.

"But regardless, I lost control of the rocket during the storm. I was battered about for what felt like hours, the cosmic lighting having completely fried my systems. I crash-landed here on the moon, and got pretty injured."

Della's sadness turned to anger.

"And then they came."

"The aliens?" Huey asked.

"I call them the Greens, because of the green color of their scales. I don't know where they came from, but they've lived beneath the surface of the moon for a long time. That blue area up above? It's where their atmospheric machines have exhaust, that's where the air comes from. I didn't know that at the time, all I did know was that I was hurt, I could barely breathe, and I was being attacked by lizards. Their king, Maximus, is a madman. He thought I was some kind of spy from the 'blue ball'. In my weakened state, I could do nothing as they threw me into their prison. Even as I recovered, much more slowly than if I had received proper treatment mind, no one would listen to me."

Della got a faraway look in her eyes, remembering.

"It was horrible in there. Five years sealed in a hole, sometimes tortured for nonexistent information and only given the barest minimum to survive. I nearly lost myself. The only thing that kept me going were thoughts of my dearest brother who I've always counted on, my incredible uncle who was like a father to me, and three little eggs that I wanted desperately to see again."

She looked at the triplets with a loving gaze.

"I didn't know a damn thing about you, but you saved me more times than I can count. I dreamt of you every night, filling in little details as I went. But when I heard Scrooge's message, those little thoughts suddenly became so real. And everything I had gone through suddenly didn't matter, because I was going to see my children."

The boys slipped forward and hugged her carefully. She hugged them back tenderly, joyful tears slipping down her beak.

"So how'd you get out?" Louie asked when they parted.

"You ever hear of an old movie called _The Shawshank Redemption?_ " Della asked.

"Yes, I've seen it," Lena replied.

"Oh-ho, we got a rebel here! Although in the interests of being a responsible adult, where exactly did you see an R-rated movie?"

"Snuck into a college campus movie night. One of the students caught me, but I managed to weasel my way out of trouble. He told me he figured that this was a better option for a first R-rated movie than something like _Robocop_ with blood splatters every five minutes."

"I can't really argue with that, considering how much sleep I lost when I decided to sneak an R-rated horror movie."

She shuddered.

"Still freaked out by clowns…now, my escape. For those of you in the audience not in on the joke, the main character of the movie escapes from prison after spending about twenty years picking a hole into his cell wall, digging a tunnel until it met a sewage pipe and escaping from there. Mine was just like that, but replace sewage with ventilation shaft. Ended up with a lot of burned feathers I had to pluck, but I was out. I then spent the next five years on a one-duck guerilla war, destabilizing the mad king's tyrannical grip while trying to figure out how to get home, or at least send a transmission back to Earth. Problem is, the Greens aren't big on radio waves. Never needed more than short-range transmissions, their civilization was small enough that they never had to send things far. I couldn't get anything that could boost my signal, it just didn't exist here."

"And I'm guessing space travel was also a big no," Webby said.

"That obvious, huh?"

She swept a hand toward the piecemeal radio on the table.

"I jury-rigged something, which was how I received Scrooge's message about an incoming rescue, but that thing isn't _nearly_ powerful enough to send a message back. Half the reason I even got the message in the first place was thanks to how close we are to the surface."

"Well, that's not an issue anymore," Huey said, "The rocket we came in on is fully capable of bringing us all home."

"Great!" Della smiled.

"But there's some bad news."

"Of course there is," Della said, slumping.

"We came with Uncle Scrooge and Uncle Donald," Dewey said, "Them and Doc Gearloose were supposed to be scouting the area, but they were gone for so long that we decided to look for them."

Della ground her beak, then grabbed the stolen rifle.

"Stay here, I'll scout around."

"No way, that's how this whole thing started!"

"Dewey, this isn't a discussion. Besides, I've been a ghost in the city for five years. I have this."

She tore one of the shirts apart into strips, then tied the strips to the rifle to make a strap, allowing her to carry it on her back.

"I'm serious, stay put," she said, tugging on her goggles.

And with that, she left.

"So we're following her, right?" Dewey asked.

"Yeah, because facing the Greens worked _so well_ last time," Lena scoffed, tapping her unreactive gauntlet.

"I have to go with Lena on this," Louie said, "We're a little out of our depth here. Mom's the expert, she's been playing spy in this alien city for a long time. This time, we probably should wait."

"And if she doesn't come back?" Dewey asked.

"She's coming back this time," Huey said.

"We just got her back, we can't lose her again!"

"So we, what? Risk our lives on unknown territory, beyond anything we've ben through before, to try and help someone who's been a ghost in this territory for five years? Mom's got way more experience in this situation than we do, we'd just get in her way."

"And probably get us all captured," Webby added.

Dewey grumbled.

"I don't like it either, bro," Huey said, "But the only safe option is to wait and trust that she knows what she's doing."

 **oOo**

Della skittered through the tunnels until she came to a door. Carefully sliding out it, she dropped down onto a roof of the underground city of the Greens.

The city looked like if someone took a city skyline and folded it in half. Buildings shot upward until they hit the ceiling, or hung from said ceiling like enormous stone bats. It often reminded Della of a cave, with stalagmites and stalactites and rocky columns where the two met. In the distance was the palace of the king, shining like jewel, but having seen diamonds up close, Della often regarded it as zirconium, which only half had to do with her opinion of the man who lived there. Dull blue lights dotted the stone buildings, bathing the area in a bluish glow.

It made her white feathers and hair stand out, but she had long since mastered the art of stealth. And even in a city such as this, people rarely looked up.

She dashed across the room, leaping and clinging to a stalactite building and shimmying higher until she came to a wire strung up high. She swung up onto the wire and crawled along it like a spider along thread.

She dropped down onto the next building, wincing a bit as old pain shot up her left leg. It was an old injury, a remnant of the crash. She'd done her best to set the bone herself while imprisoned, but she had always been fairly certain it hadn't healed right.

' _Well, since I'm going home anyway, I'll be seeing a doctor about it,_ ' she thought.

Truth be told, she imagined a long hospital stay once she arrived back on Earth. While she was certain foreign diseases weren't a problem, or it would have come up earlier, Della knew that a decade of rough living had taken a toll on her body. While she'd done her best to mitigate her circumstances, such as improvised weight training to keep her muscles from atrophying in the lesser gravity, there were still things she couldn't counter, or even a few she'd missed.

But she'd jump off that bridge when she came to it.

With the ease of experience, Della traversed the city. She leapt and climbed between buildings, rarely staying in one place for long. This speed and ease of traversal had earned her the 'Ghost' part of her nickname, and she had a long history of dodging the city guardsmen and vanishing like smoke, despite their best efforts.

Speaking of guardsmen, she spotted a pair on the street below, their armor shining in the light as they made a patrol. Civilians ducked out of their way, and Della knew from experience that fear was on their faces.

She'd experienced first-hand the cruelty of King Maximus. His own people disliked him, but many felt they could do nothing. So upon escaping, Della made it her mission to become a constant problem for the king.

Sabotaging the guardsmen, stealing food and medicine to leave in the less-fortunate parts of the city, keeping an eye on what revolutionary cells there were and aiding them when possible. Della Duck had done it all. Because even if there was danger, be it a forgotten death trap, a mystical curse, or a simple bully with too much power, Ducks didn't back down.

She shimmied down a power conduit between two buildings, slipping behind a dumpster in the alley and straining her ears.

"Did you hear? There's going to be a big public execution tomorrow."

"One of the rebels?"

"Better."

"Wait, did they finally get the White Ghost?"

"No, but three invaders just like her were picked up. White Ghost was probably an advance scout or something, and now more have shown up. His Majesty is going to kill them to send a message."

"Ghost ain't gonna like that. You sure we aren't playing with fire here?"

"Watch it, that's slanderous talk."

"I'm just saying, the White Ghost has been giving us the runaround for five years, and we've never come close to catching her. If these invaders are like her, how do we know that all we're gonna do is tick her off?"

"Forget it. Those three spies are going to die tomorrow morning. If the Ghost has a problem, she can come herself, right into the arms of the King."

Della ground her beak as the guardsmen passed.

' _Well f*ck,'_ she thought.

She wanted to curse out loud, but she kept silent, merely shimmying back up the building.

It had only been self-ingrained habit of silence while out and about that prevented her from cursing then and there, or as she rushed across rooftops. She held it in as she traveled back to her safehouse, her beak gritted tightly shut. Only when she had entered her place of safety did she let it out, momentarily forgetting that she had guests.

The children jumped as Della came back into the room like a storm, barking something that made their jaws drop.

"Geez, the mouth on you," Huey said.

Della jumped herself, just realizing what she'd done.

"Oh, sorry. Old family joke that Donald got the lion's share of our parents' tempers, but I swear enough for both of us."

"And Uncle Donald is supposed to be the sailor," Dewey said.

"He always preferred angry quacking. That just doesn't do it for me."

"Back on topic, what's the situation?" Webby asked.

"It's as we feared. They got captured. I overheard some guardsmen shooting the shit. Mad Maximus thinks they're spies, and is all set to publicly execute them come morning."

"We can bust them out, right?" Louie asked.

"I've never been able to sneak into the palace without a lot going on elsewhere drawing attention," Della said, shaking her head, "Maximus is a paranoid guy, and he's probably stepped up security because he thinks his current prisoners could draw me out. He's got a serious mad-on for me."

"Great, now what do we do?" Huey asked, "How are we supposed to perform a jailbreak on an alien palace crawling with the guards of a paranoid king?"

Suddenly, there was a sharp crack. A soft giggle echoed in the air.

"Simple," Lena said, a mischievous grin on his face, "We give the Mad King Maximus something to _fear_."

She lifted her right hand, showing off the Hand of Phobos.

The gem on the back glowed an eerie light.

"And just like that, we're in business," Louie chuckled darkly.

 **oOo**

King Maximus was signing a few papers in his office when he heard a whistle. He looked up…

And made a sound like a stepped-on mouse upon locking eyes with the White Ghost.

"Hi," she said playfully, wiggling her fingers.

Then she turned on her heel and walked out the door, laughing lightly.

Maximus was ashamed to say it took him a minute to react, the sheer audacity of the situation making his brain freeze.

" _GUARDS! Intruder! The White Ghost is in the palace!_ "

The entire palace scrambled, guards readying weapons and storming through the halls en masse.

But this was not an ordinary intruder alert…

 **oOo**

"There she is! Blast her!"

The withering barrage of laser fire did nothing as the White Ghost ran and twisted around the bolts, ducking and weaving as she ran down the halls before turning a corner.

The guards rushed around, only to smack right into another group.

"Watch it, we're chasing the Ghost!"

"That's absurd! We were just chasing the Ghost!"

A whistle got the two groups' attention, and they turned as one to an open door.

"Hey there!" she said, before closing the door behind her.

The guards immediately blasted down the door…

But the room was empty.

"That's impossible," one said, "There are no windows in this room. There's no way out!"

 **oOo**

The White Ghost slid down a stair railing, laughing in glee.

Guards stomped down the stairs after her, their armor clanking with every step.

She leapt off the railing as it ended, landing with a roll and popping back to her feet. She ducked into a large ballroom and disappeared behind a pillar.

"We have her now!"

A whistle got their attention, and they saw her waving from behind a pillar at the far end. They raced after her, questioning how she moved there.

"Yoo-hoo!"

The White Ghost spun around a pillar not far from them, and one guard shot at her, grazing her.

"I think I got her!"

"Hey bright eyes!"

They all turned to see her halfway up a different pillar.

"You missed!" she cried, before scurrying up the pillar and flipping onto the balcony it supported with a cry of "Whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop!"

"How did she do that?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" came a voice from behind them.

They spun around and saw a grinning White Ghost. They were so stunned, they did nothing as she spun on her heel and raced out the door.

 **oOo**

The White Ghost raced through a kitchen, laughing as she exited into a dining hall. Guards chased after her, only to run smack into a table. The Ghost merely leaped across the tables nimbly.

"You're never going to get me!" she cried.

She raced out the room, and the guards scrambled to follow…

Only to stop dead the second they exited the hall.

"What's wrong?" asked the White Ghost.

"Seeing double?" asked the White Ghost.

The two Ghosts laughed and took off in different directions, leaving behind horrified guards.

 **oOo**

"… _and all of the sudden there were two of them!"_

" _She's left the ballroom, we're following!"_

" _White Ghost spotted outside the Red Room! Moving to pursue!"_

" _Target located near the treasure chamber…"_

" _She just stole my helmet!"_

" _She was flicking through the records room for an unknown reason, she bolted the second we found her…"_

" _Lost track of her by the watch tower, will comb the area…"_

The king and the captain of the guard listened to the reports coming in over captain's master transceiver with ever-mounting horror.

"How is she doing this?" the captain asked, "She's everywhere at once! She's never been able to do this before!"

As if called, the White Ghost burst into the room, pursued by a pair of guards. She stopped in the middle of the room, letting the guards catch up to her and tackle her…

Only for them to pass right through her, as if she was a cloud of smoke.

She grinned toward the king.

" _Shall we their fond pageant see?_ " the White Ghost laughed, " _Lord, what fools these mortals be!"_

She then vanished before their eyes, her laughter still ringing in the air.

"What in all the stars is going on here?" King Maximus shouted.

 **oOo**

"Okay, we're clear."

At Della's order, the group slipped out of the shadows and down the hall.

"However your friend Lena is doing it, it's working," she said, "All the guards are so turned around, we've got an easy shot to the dungeons."

" _Up and down, up and down,  
I will lead them up and down:  
I am fear'd in field and town:  
Goblin, lead them up and down."_

"Is she going to be okay, though?" Della asked over Lena's laughter.

"She always gets like this when she does too much with the gauntlet," Huey said, "Power high. Webby should be able to keep her straight. The rate she's going, she'll probably crash when she takes it off, though."

"By then, we'll be launching ourselves off this rock and back to Duckburg," Dewey countered.

"True."

"How are you doing, Lena?" Webby asked, rubbing the older duck's arm reassuringly.

"Quite fine, Englabeth! Oi be jus' peachy," Lena replied in a horrible Cockney accent, before dropping it and leaning on Webby, "What is reality? What is illusion? For a magician, either could be."

"Guys, let's speed this up," Webby said bluntly, "The different magic fields here are affecting the Hand, and it's affecting Lena. I don't want her to push herself any more than she has to."

"So long as she can still pull off Plan B, I think we'll be fine," Louie said.

"Can I?" Lena said smugly.

They still picked up the pace anyway.

They finally reached the dungeons, finding it deserted. The doors had viewing holes to look in on the prisoners, so everyone spread out to find the one occupied by Scrooge, Donald, and Gyro.

"Guys, I found them!" Dewey shouted, having jumped to look inside.

"Dewey, what are you doing here?" came Donald's voice.

"Rescuing you!"

Everyone quickly got back together, and Huey inspected the lock.

"I don't think I can pick this. The Junior Woodchuck Guidebook doesn't have anything like this—"

"Then stand back," Della said, unslinging her rifle.

The children got out of the way, and Della blasted the lock and kicked open the door.

"I'm still cleaning up after you, huh Donnie?" she smirked.

Donald's jaw dropped. Then he lunged forward and wrapped his arms around her, tears in his eyes.

"Della," he sobbed, "Oh God, it is you…"

"Hey bro," she whispered back, "Sorry for disappearing on you."

"You should be, you jerk!" Donald all but shouted, but there was a smile on his face.

Scrooge rushed over and hugged them both.

"It's good to see you again, Spitfire," he said.

"You too, Uncle Scrooge. I'm sorry, I never should have gotten into the rocket in the first place."

"What's done is done, we're together again. Back up, Donald, let me get a good look at her."

The hug was broken, and Scrooge looked Della up and down, frowning slightly.

"No offense, but you look terrible."

"Well, I haven't had the best time in the past decade."

"You grew your hair out," Donald said.

"It was unintentional, but I'm used to it now," Della said, flicking a lock of hair, "But we can talk more once we get to safety."

"Finally!" Gyro shouted, having been silent until then, "My attempts to effect escape have been less than stellar."

He pushed his way out of the cell, then stopped at the wild look Lena was giving him.

"What's with you?"

"She's channeling a lot of magic to keep us covered," Louie said.

"Which points out our time limit," Huey said, "We don't know how much longer her illusions can keep the guards distracted, and I for one don't want to find out. We should sneak back out before-"

"HEY YOU!"

Everyone jumped, whirling around to see a guard. He immediately hit a button on the wall, and an alarm sounded out.

"Aw, f*ck," Della moaned.

"Lena, Plan B," Webby said.

Lena cackled unsettlingly.

 **oOo**

The walls of the palace exploded outward, sending debris scattering. A large black shape lurched out of it, roaring loud enough to rattle the ceiling.

The monstrosity seemed to have been birthed from the Greens' foulest nightmares, a multi-limbed horror that surged forward, flinging aside anything in its path. It leapt and latched onto a building, scuttling up it and beginning a skittering trek across rooftops.

Nestled among the field of short tentacles that grew from its back like a mane were Scrooge, Donald, Della, Gyro, Huey, Dewey, Louie, and Webby. They clung for dear life to the undulating back of the beast, some tentacles wrapped around their middles and helping keep them there like seatbelts.

Lena stood on what passed for the creature's head, heedless of the slavering, multi-hinged jaw mere feet from her, her glowing feet evidence as to what kept her attached. She directed her creation onward, singing as she gestured:

" _Push the kinetics  
A troubled spirit breaking through  
A bitter debt to repay now…_

 _"But don't you dread it  
A friend would never lie to you  
Helping you get through the pain now"  
_

"Well, that's fitting," Webby muttered.

 _"And when everything is upside down!  
When you're yelling but you make no sound,  
Life is gonna spin you round,  
Oh~ and get a little bit stranger!"_

"You're sure she's fine?" Della asked, "Because this is really f*cking weird!"

"Her last name is Le Strange, I'd think this was par for the course," Gyro shouted back.

" _When everything is upside down!  
A tremor in the underground!  
The nights are gonna take this town,  
Oh~ and get a little bit stranger  
Stranger…"  
_

"She's usually a lot more chill, actually," Louie said, "Occasional anxiety aside."

 _"Lost in the spaces behind  
Hold out a hand in your mind  
Don't have to face it alone!"_

The creature finally reached their exit point, and let them all off. Lena directed it back to the city.

"Lead them on a merry chase," she said.

As the massive creature skittered away, Lena turned back to the others, humming and swaying to her little song. Webby reached out and pulled her along.

"This old service tunnel will take us to the surface, then we can get to your ship," Della said, "Hopefully the Greens haven't found it."

They raced through the tunnels and across the rocky surface of the moon, finally reaching the rocket.

"Bigger than the last Spear of Selene," Della commented.

"We call this the Sword of Selene, actually," Scrooge said.

Everyone piled in, Webby and Lena bringing up the rear.

"We're clear, gogogo!" Lena shouted, taking a brief look behind her.

"Strap in everyone!" Della shouted, diving into the pilot's seat and raking her gaze over the controls with a practiced eye.

"Hang on, this is my ship, I'll fly-"

"Gyro, sit down!" Scrooge shouted, "We don't have time to argue!"

"But sir—"

"Della's the best damn pilot I've ever known, she's got this!"

In a matter of minutes, the rocket was launching. Della let out a long breath.

"Finally…I'm off the moon…I'm going home…"

She felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned to see Scrooge.

"Rest easy, Spitfire. You're back with your family."

"Uncle Scrooge, I'm sorry for taking the Spear in the first place. If I hadn't-"

"No more of that. This family's been in too much pain already to keep blame going around ten years after the fact."

Della slowly nodded.

Lena slumped in her chair, pushing the gauntlet off as Webby pulled.

"Thanks, Pink," she moaned, "Do me a favor, wake me when we land."

Webby gave Lena a small hug as the older girl's eyes fluttered closed.

"You rest, Lena."

"So…we're finally going home with Mom," Louie said, staring toward the front of the cockpit.

"I know, right?" Dewey said, "It almost doesn't feel real."

"Believe it, guys," Huey said, "Our mom is back. Everyone's together."

The triplets looked at the mother with smiles on her faces as she pointed the rocket towards home.

A few minutes later, those smiles would vanish.

It started with some coughing. Della coughed a little as she flew. Then she coughed some more. She thumped her chest a little, feeling like it was getting tight. She coughed again, ending with a wheeze.

And that's when she realized that something was definitely wrong.

She tried to say something, but her voice was drowned out by coughs. She let go of the control yoke and clutched at her chest, coughing and wheezing.

She felt herself be moved out of the chair, heard Scrooge barking orders, but it felt far away, like the voices were coming from underwater. All she could focus on was the fact that she couldn't breathe.

Donald had gotten to Della first, dragging her out of the chair and laying her on the ground. Scrooge ordered Gyro to take the wheel before attending to Della himself. Donald was already performing CPR, but Della was still wheezing and twitching.

"What's going on?" Dewey cried.

"Oh God, I was afraid of this," Huey said, "Reverse altitude sickness, in spades! Her body's spent too long in that thin atmosphere, her lungs are struggling to adapt to this thicker one!"

"So what do we do?" Louie shouted.

"Her lungs aren't getting her enough oxygen, we need to help get her more."

"Oxygen?" Gyro gasped, "I have an idea! Get out one of the masks! And someone take the wheel!"

Webby grabbed one of the masks and rushed over to Gyro, even as the scientist opened a storage chamber beneath one of the chairs and extracted a slim case. Inside were some tools, and he immediately got to work. In moments, he lifted the mask with a cry, and rushed over to Della.

"I've reconfigured the mask. It'll provide a steady stream of oxygen at a better rate than before. It should counter what's going on…hopefully, I'm not a medical doctor."

"Then we need to get her one," Scrooge said, getting out of the pilot's chair, "Put this thing into overdrive!"

"Yes sir!" Gyro said, trading places and hitting a few switches.

While Donald fussed over his sister, who seemed to be breathing a little easier, Scrooge turned to the triplets, who all had worried looks on their faces.

"I know what you lads are thinking. Stop it right now. You are not going to lose your mother again! I've seen this before, and it's treatable. She's going to be fine! We'll get her to a doctor and fix her up. She'll be home before you know it, whole and healthy. I swear it on the graves of my ancestors!"

The boys kept somber looks on the faces for a while, keeping close to Della the whole way home as she fell into an exhausted slumber.

 **oOo**

Many hours later, the rocket touched down. When they were closer to Earth, Scrooge had managed to get a message to Mrs. Beakley, and she had prepared for their arrival.

The second the door on the rocket opened, Launchpad was rushing in, grabbing up Della, and rushing back out to deliver her to the ambulance that had been called. Scrooge chased after him to speak to the paramedics.

However, waiting by the ambulance were his board of directors, alongside an apologetic Bentina.

"I'm sorry, they found out," she said.

"Not your fault, Mrs. Beakley. Gentlemen, I'd like to stay and chat, but I have more pressing business to-"

"You just couldn't leave well enough alone," Bradford snarled, "How much did you pour into this secret project? Isn't it bad enough you nearly bankrupted the company with a fool's errand?"

"This was different. I actually had a location!" Scrooge snarled back, "And I don't think I like your tone!"

"Your judgement is askew, Mr. McDuck—"

"And you didn't happen to notice the person Launchpad rushed by with? I don't have time for this, Bradford. I need to see to my niece."

"We need to discuss this!"

"I'm not discussing anything until Della is fine!"

"So you're going to abandon this over a silly girl who got herself in trouble, just like the last t-"

There was a loud crack, and Bradford fell to the ground, out cold. Scrooge stood over him with an extended fist, his face a mask of rage.

"Don't. You. Dare."

He glared at the other two Buzzard Brothers, but they raised their hands and stepped back.

"We can discuss this later," they said in unison.

"Smart," Scrooge said, before turning toward the ambulance, "Beakley, Launchpad, get the kids and follow us, Donald and I will ride with Della."

 **oOo**

The diagnosis was long, but it wasn't anything unexpected.

General malnutrition, from having to steal food that her body had trouble fully processing sometimes. A minor malunion in her tibia, which would require some minor surgery at a later date to repair, if she ever accepted it since she'd gotten used to it. Some muscle atrophy, although the doctors commended her tactics of mitigation, given that it could have been _much_ worse. General wear and tear.

What Della hadn't counted on was the reverse altitude sickness. According to the doctors, she had been dangerously close to a full-on low altitude cerebral edema. Much like its high altitude cousin, her lungs and brain had been shocked by the abrupt change in air pressure, and some damage had been done. Thankfully, the doctors had gotten to her in time to prevent more serious complications. The oxygen treatment Gyro had whipped up had helped immensely in buying her time.

In the end, Della was given a strict diet to adhere to, some medication, physical therapy appointments, and a portable oxygen concentrator. Her lungs had received a lot of shock, and she would have to use it to occasionally bolster her oxygen levels.

Della didn't like the tubes going into her nostrils, but it was better than the alternative, and she felt that she would get used to them in time.

What else she didn't like was the insistence of keeping her in the hospital for a few days for observation. She was a girl of action, she hated being cooped up for long periods. By the second day, she was practically bouncing off the walls.

The only good parts were the visitors. The triplets, her boys, were an almost constant presence. Just being with them was a balm to her, and she was eager to know as much as possible about them. Donald usually accompanied them, throwing in his own comments to this or that story, or providing context to something.

She got the funny feeling they were holding something back, but shrugged it off, glad for the interaction.

All the same, she was extremely happy when Scrooge came in with the release paperwork.

"Finally! Get me out of this f*cking place! I f*cking hate hospitals!"

"One last thing before we go," Scrooge said, and he handed her a box.

Della opened it and gasped. Reaching in, she lifted up a brand-new pilot's jacket.

"Figured you'd want a new one, considering your old one was mostly scraps."

"Uncle Scrooge, get over here so I can hug you," was the deadpan reply.

 **oOo**

Della looked up at McDuck Manor, smiling. It was good to be home.

She entered the mansion, and immediately jumped at the blue glow that appeared before her.

"Welcome home, Miss Della."

Della blinked awkwardly.

"Duckworth, are you a ghost?"

Duckworth merely smiled.

"Okay, then," she said slowly before following her brother.

"Yeah, I've gotten used to that," Donald said, "Your room's this way. Uncle Scrooge unlocked it, and Duckworth and Mrs. B spend all day yesterday giving it a deep clean. Last thing we need is you getting too much dust."

"I'll have to look it over, make sure it's up to my strict preferences," Della said haughtily, but her grin showed what she was really feeling.

Della brandished a cane Scrooge had let her borrow, and Donald walked on her other side, ready to help if she stumbled. It would be a while before her muscles built back up, but she wasn't concerned. In the meantime, she'd just need a little help as she walked. They found Mrs. Beakley and the boys waiting, the boys just exiting.

"We were just helping Mrs. B bring in some clothes," Huey said.

"Little under the wire, don't you think?" Della asked.

The boys shrugged, but Della just laughed.

"I'm teasing. I'm going to lay down for a bit. We can shoot the shit later, okay?"

The boys nodded, but Beakley grimaced.

"Della, I'd prefer if you watched your language in the future. There are children present."

"If they know what it means, they're old enough to know when to use it. If not, they know not to repeat it."

"Give it up, Mrs. B," Donald said, "Scrooge and I tried for years to get her to clean up her language. Never worked."

"Perhaps I should give it a shot, start a swear jar."

"Don't bother. I gave up after the third attempt at one of those."

Beakley gave Della a glare. Della got an odd smile on her face.

"Boys, cover your ears a moment," she said mysteriously.

The triplets did so, and witnessed their mother say something that had Mrs. Beakley's jaw drop. Della then gave a haughty smile and hobbled into her room to get settled.

"What happened?" Louie said.

"My sister just unloaded all of the Seven Dirty Words right into Mrs. B's face," Donald replied, clearly struggling not to laugh.

"I wonder if this is going to be a running gag," Dewey said.

Later in private, Donald told the children, including Lena and Webby, that if he caught them using similar language, they would be punished for it.

"I can't stop my sister from cursing, but I can at least prevent you from getting into the habit."

 **oOo**

After her brief nap, Della went in search of Donald. She momentarily gawked at the houseboat in the pool, but shrugged. Donald had always felt most comfortable on the water anyway. No doubt the boys had rooms on the boat as well.

She inched up the gangplank, taking care and leaning heavily on the cane, and found Donald washing a few dishes.

"Donnie? Can I talk to you?"

"Sure, sis. What's up?"

"I was hoping you had some pictures of the boys I could see."

"Oh, plenty. Let me get the albums."

The two ended up pouring over pictures in albums and on Donald's phone. Della laughed at the overprotective nature of her brother showcased in the pictures, but chalked it up to grief from her disappearance playing havoc on his careful nature.

The second that thought had crossed her mind, the little seed of doubt she'd been carrying for so long rapidly grew.

"Della?" Donald asked, seeing tears in his sister's eyes.

Della just sobbed, rubbing at her eyes and accidently knocking out her oxygen tube.

"Hey, easy. What's wrong?" Donald asked, helping her replace the tube.

"It's just…God, all that lost time! I missed so much…I never should have gotten on that rocket. My own children are strangers."

"Della, no," Donald said, "You're here now. We have time now. We can-"

"What, make up for lost time?" she snapped, "Donald, I missed their first steps, their first words. I missed every bedtime story. I missed their first day of school, and the first time they got in trouble at school. I lost _ten years!_ How can I claim to be their mother when I haven't been there?"

"Stop talking like that! Our family has been through too much to be cut down by something as stupid as time! You are Della Duck, the bravest person I've ever known. You are going to get through this and be the fantastic mother I always knew you would be."

Della just collapsed against her brother, a decade's worth of sorrow coming out at once.

Huey, Dewey, and Louie found them like that. Donald doing his best to comfort Della, both of them crying. Between Donald's soft words of reassurance and Della's sobs of regret, it wasn't hard for them to figure out what was going on.

Without a second thought, they joined in.

"Boys, I'm so sorry…I was never there…"

"You're here now, that's what matters," Huey said.

"We're family, we'll get through this," Dewey added.

Louie just nuzzled his head against Della's torso, giving soft quacks and trying to transmit as much care as he could.

But the pain was still there. And it would spread. Soon, all five of them were weeping bitterly for the years they had lost.

* * *

 _I'm not crying, you're crying!_


	12. Adjustment Period

_This is pretty short, but consider it a little chaser after the large meal of the last chapter._

 _Just assume that Della's wearing a small oxygen concentrator on her belt and a nose tube for it unless specified otherwise._

* * *

 **Freedom from Fear**

Chapter 12

Adjustment Period

Della was adjusting to normal life. Slowly, but she was adjusting.

She was diligent with her physical therapy, attacking it with zeal, and quickly bounced back. She was soon able to walk unaided, although she did still tire easily. She got used to wearing the oxygen tube, keeping a small concentrator attached to her belt most of the time. She kept up with her medicine without having to be reminded. In short, she did everything necessary to build her body back up.

However, there was problem. While she was chugging along with physical healing, her psychological healing was another story. Della often found herself unable to relax. She'd spent so long in a fugitive mindset, always looking over her shoulder, that she found it hard to settle. She could barely relax in the bathtub, and it often took her a long time to get to sleep. This problem seemed to have a visual signifier in her scarf, as despite gladly wearing her new jacket, she couldn't seem to part with the tattered old scarf she'd worn for years.

Still, she tried not to let it show. And something that calmed her would always be spending time with family.

 **oOo**

" _I'm Johnny, the brains of the outfit."_

" _And I'm his twin brother Randy, the handsome one."_

" _And we got a_ head _by building furniture-"_

" _For your_ feet _!"_

" _Welcome to our_ Ottoman Empire! _"_

"So…you watch this show a lot?" Della asked, watching the two roosters on the TV mug for the camera, "It seems kind of…"

"Dumb?" Louie asked, "Yeah, but it grows on you. Every ottoman's a different story, you know?"

"Well, I don't mind the eye-candy. Those are some nice muscles they've got."

"Mom!"

"What? A girl can't appreciate beauty objectively?" Della asked with a grin.

"Please tell me this isn't going to be a running gag…"

"Well, I already leered at Launchpad today-"

" _Seriously?_ "

"Louie, I'm teasing you!" Della laughed, "Look, I might be a single mom, but I also just got back from life in Hell, and am currently healing from it and reconnecting with my family. Romance is going to be the last thing on my mind for a while."

Louie still looked a little green at the idea of his mother dating, but he soon shrugged it off.

" _Today, our client is Mark Beaks, who wants a few special functions for his ottoman."_

"Whoop, here we go," Louie said, "Mark Beaks is crazy."

"You know him? Who is he?"

"Have you been living under a rock? Oh wait, you technically have. Well, Beaks is a tech giant with headquarters here in Duckburg. He's…"

The TV showed the brothers meeting a grey parrot who seemed to speak in a strange language.

" _Peeps, nice to see. So I'm looking for something with a 'I'm so rich, I don't care how a look' thing going on. But not too garish, I don't need polka dots or anything like that. That stuff's not on point. It needs some storage for my gear, maybe a charger and speaker for my phone. Let's trade peep deets so you can give me updates, yeah? I'll send you a few ideas. Beaks out!"_

The parrot walked backward, making finger guns and laser noises as he did.

"I understood maybe half of that," Della said, "That guy is a tech mogul?"

"I know, right? It's like the Internet spawned a living person."

"Speaking of Internet, is Myspace still a thing? I'm still catching up on things I missed."

"Not for the past decade. It kind of got stomped by other platforms."

"That sounds about right. Guess I should skip updating my account."

As they watched, Louie kept sneaking glances at Della. As a would-be con-man, he knew how to read people pretty well. He'd picked up on things he was sure his brothers hadn't. But he didn't know how to bring it up. There wasn't a good way to approach the idea that his mother might have anxiety from being a prisoner of an alien kingdom.

So he had resolved to keep an eye on things, and to be there if she ever wanted to talk.

 **oOo**

She heard a grumbling as she passed by the library, and poked her head in.

"Huey? Everything okay?" Della asked.

"Yeah, Mom. Just having some trouble."

"What with?" she asked, walking in and sitting down beside him.

"I'm working on an essay," Huey said, "It's for history, and the topic I got was about the Mississippi River. I have information, but I'm having trouble sorting it. And it just feels like I'm missing something."

Della sat back and thought for a moment.

"Riverboats," she finally said, "Chief means of travel and trade on the Mississippi. You could construct it from the viewpoint of someone who worked on a riverboat. Start by describing things about the river itself, then go into the riverboat, like the tools and techniques, then into various things about the port towns along the river."

"That's…actually pretty good," Huey said.

Huey began to draw a flow-chart, muttering to himself as he worked.

"Yeah, this might actually work…"

"And you can use your Uncle Scrooge as a source. He worked on a Mississippi riverboat when he wasn't much older than you."

"Really?"

"His uncle had gone to America to find his fortune, and that's where Scrooge got his start on his own journey. Scrooge worked for him on the river. I'm sure he'd would be happy to tell you a few stories. Let's go ask him."

Huey grabbed a notebook and rushed off, Della following him.

"Help your kid with homework, check," she said to herself.

Donald's advice had been spot-on. Knowledge was the way into Huey's good graces.

 **oOo**

Dewey wrapped the scarf around his neck, checking himself out in the mirror.

"You know, I do look good," he said to himself.

"You actually do."

Dewey screamed and jumped a foot in the air.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you!" Della said.

"Where did you even come from?" Dewey shouted.

"Sorry, I developed a great skill with stealth. It's gotten to the point where I don't even realize I'm being sneaky—wait, is that my scarf?"

Dewey turned red and began mumbling.

"I heard 'castle' and 'duffel bag'. Care to speak up?"

"We visited Castle McDuck a while back. We found that little riddle hunt you left for Uncle Donald, and your bag with a few things of yours along with his hat."

It took Della minute.

"Wait, you found that old thing? I honestly forgot that prank, it was ages ago! Long before you kids were even a possibility."

"You know there was a demon dog down there, right?"

"You talking about Fluffy? He's still around?"

"You named that monster _Fluffy?_ "

"I have a weird sense of humor sometimes."

Della strode forward and began to tug at the scarf.

"Hold still a moment."

She rewound it and tied it around his neck.

"There. Much better. It looks good on you, you should keep the look."

"Wait, you're giving me the scarf?" Dewey asked.

"Consider it the start of all the birthday presents I missed," Della smiled.

Dewey stared at her for a moment, then hugged her.

"I love you, Mom."

Della stiffed a bit, then wrapped her arms around her son.

"I love you too…please don't start crying. If you start, I'll start, and that'll just spiral…"

Dewey choked out a laugh.

"I still can't believe you're here sometimes."

"That makes two of us."

Della broke the hug.

"Hey, wanna hear about the time I fought a yeti?"

"A yeti!"

"If I'm lying, I'm dying! Your uncles and I were in the Himalayas, searching for a crown that belonged to Genghis Khan…"

As Dewey listened to the story, he marveled at the kind of fearless person his mother was.

A small and ugly part of him wondered if maybe, if she'd been more careful like Uncle Donald, they all could have avoided the pain of lost time. Like always, he squashed that thought down into nothingness.

Amongst the triplets, there had been an undercurrent of anger at Della for abandoning them. Even if she hadn't meant to, she still put herself into a dangerous position that resulted in her disappearance. But all of them had wanted their mother back so badly that they willingly ignored such thoughts. And once they did meet Della, once they saw the anguish on her face at her mistake with the Spear of Selene and heard of what she'd been through on the moon, any dark thoughts had died a quick death.

Huey had been the one who said it best: "Fate's punished her enough for her mistake. Us being angry at her for disappearing on us does no good."

 **oOo**

Lena paused in her reading.

"Fred, are you stuffy in here, or is it just me?"

The box containing Fred was unresponsive.

"Wait, I forgot who I was talking to."

Lena set her book down and walked over to her window. As she opened it, she spotted a spot of white out of the corner of her eye, and she craned her neck out to get a better look.

Della was sitting on the roof, staring into the middle distance. Something about the sight felt familiar to Lena…

"Hey! You on the roof!"

Della looked up at the tower window, spotting Lena sticking her head out.

"That's your bedroom?" Della asked.

"I like high places," Lena replied, "It's a magic thing. What are you doing up here?"

"Same as you, I like high places. It's a pilot thing."

"Liar. You were staring into the distance pretty hard for just relaxing up high. Why don't you come on in? You look like you could use someone to talk to."

Della looked up at her for a moment, then nodded.

Lena stuck her head back inside, heading toward her trapdoor to open it up and give Della and easier time locating her room. Then she heard something behind her, and turned to see Della crouched on the windowsill, the jostled candlestick in her hand.

"Took a shortcut, scaled up the tower," Della said by way of explanation.

"Are you sure you're not Webby's mom?" Lena asked.

"I think I'd remember squeezing out a fourth egg," Della replied lightly, readjusting her oxygen tube, which had been jostled during her climb, "What's the candle for?"

"Banishes bad mojo. I kind of have a theme of 'anti-monster fortress' in my room."

"That explains the horseshoes," Della said, looking up.

As Della set the candlestick back, Lena looked her over. She saw a hunched posture, tensed muscles, and a nervous twitch in in the fingers.

"You're nervous," Lena said.

Della looked at her oddly.

"I have anxiety, I can see the signs."

"You think I'm anxious about something?"

"I think you were on the roof for more than just the view. Let me take a wild guess, you've been in an action-ready mindset for so long that it's hard for you to let go. You keep thinking something's going to attack you any second."

Della was silent for a moment, before letting out a slow breath.

"Not bad. Yeah, I've having trouble adjusting to…civilian life, let's say. I was a prisoner for five years, and a fugitive for another five."

"And that's hard to shake."

Della nodded, getting a haunted look in her eye.

"Sometimes I lie awake at night, wondering if this is all real. Wondering if I'll close my eyes, and when I open them, I'll be back in that hole."

"Yeah, been there."

"What do you mean?" Della asked, looking at Lena in confusion.

"No one ever told you my story, did they?"

"They…kind of glossed over it."

"I'm not surprised. No one likes lingering on it, least of all me. Ironic, given all the times I've name-dropped her as part of exposition."

"Who?"

"My former guardian. I used to live in…an abusive household, let's say."

"Oh!" Della winced, "I'm sorry…"

"I'm seeing a therapist about it," Lena said, waving Della off, "But before I came to live at the mansion, I was taken care of by…well, a monster, there's no other way around it."

"Literally or figuratively? In this life, either is feasible. And you're magic, so that counts double."

"Both. She was once a very powerful sorceress, obsessed with reclaiming her stolen power and enacting her vengeance on the one who'd done it to her. Never mind that she started the fight. Actually, you probably knew her."

"I did?"

"Tremendously powerful, completely psychotic, serious hate for Clan McDuck, thing for shadow-symbolism, major drama queen? Yeah, she's kind of hard to miss."

It took Della a moment. When it hit, her jaw dropped.

" _Magica De Spell?!_ "

"That's my aunt. But honestly, I haven't called her that in a long time. She lost that right in the worst way."

"You're… you're serious? You're actually f*cking serious? F*cking Magica De Spell was your aunt? Are you shitting me right now?"

"Serious as a heart attack," Lena said, "And it was about as pleasant as you'd expect."

"How? She disappeared after Vesuvius!"

"Her power stripped from her, rendered down to a ghostly presence, a living shadow. She skulked the night, looking for someone to use so she could regain what was lost. She found a blood relative. Distant, but viable to bind herself to. Better yet, a child. One she could mold to her will. If that didn't work, the binding would allow her to exert a measure of control over the young duck."

Lena leaned against the wall, sliding down it.

"I couldn't run away. She lived in my shadow. She could force me to obey her. There was no escape from her. So yeah, I know how it feels to be damaged, to have gone through something so horrible that it still taints the deepest parts of your mind. To have nightmares of being back in that place, and wake up wondering if this was the dream, and happiness and the love of family wasn't an illusion."

Without even hesitating, Della went over to Lena, sat down next to her, and wrapped an arm around the teen.

"Look at us," Della laughed bitterly, "Two shattered people, wondering if we'll ever be fixed."

"I'm not afraid of Magica anymore, at least in the same way I was before, when she looked after me. She haunts my nightmares, but I know that these people, my new family…they'd do anything for me. It's scary sometimes, how much they care about me, and how much I care about them."

"Shit, Lena. Maybe you've missed the lesson, but the Duck family stands together, no matter the odds. If you want to talk to us, you can talk."

Lena twisted her head and smiled smugly at Della.

"Oh wait, I see what this is. Well played, kid. Well played."

"I try."

Lena got up, giving Della a hand up.

"So, what's the future hold for you, Miss Duck?"

"First, to Hell with this Miss Duck thing. Call me Aunt Della. You're family now. As for what's next…I think I need to take it slow. Get used to being around people that don't want to kill me."

"That's a good start."

"So have you lived here for long, then?" Della asked.

"Not that long," Lena said, "I don't really keep track, anymore. Haven't since the papers came through."

Lena walked over to one wall, poking at a framed copy of the paper granting Scrooge McDuck guardianship over Lena Le Strange.

"One of the best days of my life when I got this."

"Yeah, Scrooge has always been pretty dedicated to family, although sometimes you wouldn't know it. I'm actually surprised there aren't more touches around the mansion of everything. You'd think there'd be more pictures of the boys growing up around here."

Lena stiffened.

"Oh Gaia, no one told you," Lena moaned

"Told me what?"

Lena nervously twisted her hands and turned back to the confused Della.

"That Scrooge and Donald didn't speak for about a decade after you disappeared?"

Della's face went from confused to stone cold in approximately zero seconds.

"They what."

 **oOo**

Scrooge climbed out of the limo, stretching.

"Same time tomorrow, Launchpad," he said.

Looking across the driveway, he saw Donald getting out of his own car.

"Your errands go well, nephew?"

"Got a lot done," Donald said, "I hope Della and the kids were okay while we were gone."

"I'm sure they had a low-key day."

"Last time you said that to me, you were taking the kids on an expedition to Atlantis," Donald deadpanned.

"Della's been diligent with her physical therapy, I doubt she'll be wanting to take long trips until she's sure she's at a hundred percent. She's adventurous, not stupid."

The two entered the mansion, only to see the very duck they had been discussing waiting for them. Her arms were crossed, and her gaze was icy.

"Della? Something wrong?" Scrooge said.

Without a word, Della stomped forward and grabbed them each by an ear, yanking them toward an office.

"Ow-ow-ow! Sis!"

"Della! Gah! Unhand me this inst-OW!"

"Stow it, both of you. We need to _talk_."

* * *

 _So, I'm going to be going on a little break, guys. Call it a holiday break or whatever, I just have to build a surplus of chapters again so I can have even updates like I like._

 _See you all in the future_


	13. Country Lanes

_Hello, the future!_

 _(crickets)_

 _You guys are mad, I can tell._

 _Okay, here's the thing. My writing muse is very bipolar. I get periods of hyperactivity, followed by long periods where I stall out. When I said I was taking a break, I honestly didn't expect it to be this long. The stallout with this story isn't the worst I've ever had (that would be a Kingdom Hearts story that I've been poking at since 2012 and I've only recently gotten to the halfway mark), but I really did expect to have started back up by April at least._

 _And I didn't want to post an announcement about that because it feels like I'm cheating you all. I hate when an updated chapter pops in my inbox and I get excited, only for it to be a note from the author announcing a hiatus. That feeling sucks and I never want to get my readers' hopes up like that._

 _Now, the good news is, while actual writing took a nosedive, I was still able to plan out where I wanted the story to go and how it's going to end. Aside from some details (like what exactly I'm going to do for a Darkwing Duck episode), I have pages of notes all the way to the epilogue. I just need to actually write it, which will be the real test._

 _Writing professionally is going to be a real chore if I ever manage to get to that._

 _Speaking of professional, how about the rest of Season 2, eh? After so long waiting, we've finally seen the returns of both Lena and Della in canon._

 _Turns out I was right about moon aliens, but WAY off with the whole 'Blue Area of the Moon' thing. I also called that she'd have a permanent injury, just not the right one._

 _So, here's the thing. I will be adapting a few things from the show, but this is still mostly my story. The characterization of Della isn't going to really change, although I might make a few dialogue adjustments to bring her more into line with her canon counterpart. Because here's the thing: the two Dellas' situations were radically different. One was of complete isolation, and the other of violence and pain. Two different traumatic experiences are going to bring about two different types of PTSD, that's how that works._

 _(and I really like my idea of Della being the stronger swearer between her and Donald)_

 _As for Lena, I'm happy she's back, but still feel like we needed another episode with her as the focus. Her return was excellent (and we will be seeing Violet in my story, just differently), and Nightmare on Killmotor Hill was fantastic, but I feel like this character has more gaps in what she's up to that need to be answered. Word of God from the creators says she's staying with Violet, but I want to see that and her reasons for doing that instead of staying with Webby. How did the adults react to her coming back? And is she getting therapy like she_ desperately _needs? Hopefully these questions will be answered in Season 3, and until then, I can speculate like any good fan._

 _And now, without further ado, let's continue..._

* * *

 **Freedom from Fear**

Chapter 13

Country Lanes

Donald's car was fairly full.

Aside from Donald and Della, the boys were in the backseat, and Lena and Webby squeezed in the very back on makeshift seats.

Webby was practically vibrating. When she heard that Donald was taking his sister and the boys on a trip to his grandmother's farm, she'd begged to tag along, wanting to know what a farm was like. Since the trip was partially for Della's sake, as part of an ongoing mission to reconnect with family, she'd had final say.

"If it's okay with your grandmother, sure. The more the merrier, right?"

And because an excited Webby was like a hurricane, Lena had ended up getting dragged along for the ride.

They had gotten on the road early that morning, and were making good progress as they traveled down the country roads east of Duckburg. Fields of farmland flashed by. Webby stared out the window and giggled occasionally. The boys had seen most of this before, so weren't really admiring the view, instead playing a small card game amongst themselves. Lena was watching the landscape roll on, noting that the sight seemed pretty calm.

Della sighed happily.

"You know, I missed plants," she said, "I missed looking at all the green."

"I guess you would," Donald said.

"So, I have a question," Lena spoke up, "The woman is your father's mother, yes?"

"Yep," said Donald.

"And your mother was Scrooge's sister, right?"

"Younger by quite a bit, but yes," Della said.

"So Grandma Duck would be older than Uncle Scrooge, is what I'm getting at, right?"

"Right," the twins chorused.

"Well then… _how is she still alive?!_ "

"Really f*cking good and clean living," Della said, while at the same time, Donald replied "Please, that old bird is made of iron."

"I feel like I shouldn't be surprised after meeting Scrooge's parents, but," Webby began, only for Lena to shout again.

" _Scrooge's parents are still alive?! HOW?!_ "

"Magic," everyone said.

"That's not an answer! I know magic, I _am_ magic! What the Tartarus made Scrooge's parents live for that long?"

"When Uncle Scrooge rebuilt Castle McDuck, he used some kind of weird druid stones," Huey said, "They accidently made his parents immortal."

Lena would spend the rest of the car trip trying to wrap her brain around that, going through multiple thaumaturgic calculations to try and figure out how some druid stones could have made someone immortal.

The only answer that felt in any way satisfactory was that druid magic was messed up.

 **oOo**

Donald slowly drove the car up the dirt driveway, edging toward the farmhouse.

"So, you did tell Grandma the full reason we're here, right?" Della asked.

Donald got a mischievous smile on his face.

"Donald? What did you do?"

"I might have left out the part about you…"

"You didn't!" Della gasped, before cackling a bit, "Oh, this is going to be gold!"

"I'll get out first, then give you a sign."

"Should we record this?" Louie asked.

"I am," Lena said, getting out her phone.

"Me too," Dewey said, doing the same.

"You guys are terrible," Webby said.

Then she slid her phone out of her skirt pocket.

Donald parked near the farmhouse. Not very far off, they could see an elderly duck with her hair in a bun sitting in a rocking chair on the porch, knitting.

Donald got out of the car and called for her attention.

"Hey Grandma! Look who we found!"

Then Della got out of the car, waving.

Grandma took one look at Della, her eyes wide, then gasped and clutched at her chest. She soon slumped down in her chair.

The twins screamed and rushed forward, checking over the old duck…

Only for her hands to lash out and pull their ears.

"Why in God's name didn't you call ahead? You two nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Ow! Not again!"

"Gah! Grandma, watch the tube, watch the tube!"

"Serves you both right for scaring an old woman!" Grandma snapped.

"This was a good call," Dewey said, keeping his recording phone steady.

"I already like this lady," Lena said.

"She survived seeing Duckburg turn from a one-horse town into a metropolis," Huey said, "Uncle Donald wasn't exaggerating when he said she was made of iron."

Grandma Duck finally released the captured ears, standing up and glaring at her granddaughter.

"And just where have you been, young lady?"

"Stuck on the moon as a prisoner and then fugitive of an alien race," Della replied.

Grandma stared at her unblinkingly for a moment before nodding.

"Right. Donald, I assume you brought the boys?"

"They're in the car."

"Then get them out here. I want to see my great-grandchildren."

"Yes ma'am," said a cowed Donald as he scurried off.

The two ladies stood in silence for a moment before Grandma spoke up again.

"Is that an oxygen tube?"

"My lungs received some damage from the shock of changing air pressure."

"Ah. How long will you be using it for?"

"That's still up in the air."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"I'm getting used to it. You're taking this fairly well, Grandma."

"I helped raise you two, and I looked on as Scrooge McDuck turned my hometown into an industrial center. You underestimate how jaded I am."

Donald herded the children closer, those who had been recording having hastily put their phones away. Grandma Duck, however, wasn't fooled.

"If I see that footage on the Internet, I'll be coming for you all."

"How did you even," Dewey began, but Grandma cut him off with a simple raised eyebrow.

"Now then…one, two, three, four, five…I'm counting some extras."

"Hi, I'm Webby!"

"Friends of yours, boys?" Grandma asked.

"No, we're just a pair of nuts they picked up on the side of the road," Lena replied.

"Lena, be nice," Webby hissed, elbowing the teen.

But Grandma just snickered a bit.

"Fresh little thing, aren't you?" Grandma asked.

"Sorry, sometimes I have trouble turning it off," Lena said with a sheepish smile.

"We're friends, really close, practically family!" Webby said, jumping in place excitedly, "I've never been on a farm before! You must be in really good shape to still be running this place since you're older than Scrooge apparently! What kinds of things do you grow? Do you have cows? Sheep? Pigs? Is your alarm clock a rooster or is that just a stereotype? Does your water come from a well? Can I pet a horse? Where's your tractor? What's hay really like? What-"

"Webby, down girl!" Lena said pulling her back into a standing position, "Breathe before you pass out!"

"Excitable, isn't she?" Grandma asked.

"Extremely," the triplets chorused.

"I think it's kind of cute," Della said.

Grandma looked at the still vibrating Webby, then got a smile on her face.

"I keep in excellent shape, thank you. Mostly corn, but a number of other things. We should be ready for the first harvest of that orchard later this year, for example. A number of cows and pigs. No sheep, but we have chickens, ducks, and rabbits. I do have an actual alarm clock, but it often does coincide with Fowler's morning crows. The area got city water years ago, though well water is often still used for crops. I'm sure Sir Henry won't mind if you pet him, he's a calm old boy. Tractor's in use at the moment. Hay's in the barn if you're curious."

"You got all that?" Donald asked.

"No worse than you on your grouchiest days."

Della snickered, and Donald shot her a look.

"If you're that excited about being on a farm, maybe you can help Jaq feed the chickens?" Grandma asked, "I mean, if you're curious…"

"Sure! Where?" Webby asked.

"Other side of the barn, sweetie. You'll see it not far away."

Webby raced off.

"If you don't mind, I'm going to make sure she doesn't go too crazy," Lena said, walking after her sister, "It was nice to meet you."

"Likewise. Right, so why don't you boys go play with the rabbits," Grandma said, "Or if you'd prefer, Lady gave birth to some piglets recently. Gus is seeing to them, you can help. I'd like a chat with Della."

The boys ran off, and Grandma shooed Donald after them before turning to Della.

"Why don't you come inside and tell me about what happened, sweetie."

 **oOo**

Lena found Webby talking excitedly to a mouse. The farmhand, Jaq, was explaining about the farm fowl they had in their care.

"It's mostly chickens, but there are a trio of ducks we somehow ended up with," Jaq was saying, "We sell the eggs to someone who buys them from all the farms around here, and packages them together to resell in Duckburg, labeled under 'from local farmers'. It's the same deal as the crops."

"I'm mostly seeing the chickens here," Webby said.

"It's almost feeding time, so the ducks will be around. They have a small pond around the backside of the henhouse where they hang out in. Would you like to help?"

Webby nodded vigorously.

Jaq showed them both how to spread the feed, and Webby had a blast tossing the grain and watching the chickens swarm. Lena ended up helping Jaq check the nests while the birds were busy, and when she got back out, she noticed Webby standing shock still, staring at the brown-feathered fowl not far away.

Webby just couldn't take her eyes off the small birds waddling around the corner. They gave off soft quacks as they walked, almost talking to themselves. Her mind was awhirl as she looked, thoughts banging around her head like pinballs.

"First time meeting a feral duck?" Lena asked, noting the look in Webby's face, "Makes you think, doesn't it?"

"Yeah…"

"I had the same thoughts when I came across a raccoon when I was younger. What really makes us different, I wondered. Just because we can talk and build our societies, does that really mean we're truly different from our animal ancestors? We think, they instinct, but does that make us better?"

Lena suddenly scoffed.

"Then the little punk bit me, and I learned a life lesson: ferals weren't people."

"You got yourself treated, right?"

"Went to a free clinic and told them what happened. They were practically tripping over themselves to give me rabies shots. Bottom line, don't feel too confused. There's a reason we're the top of the food chain and they still splash around in tiny ponds."

One of the ducks spotted them, or more accurately, the bag of feed in Webby's hand. It quacked loudly, rushing forward and flapping its wings. Webby, still weirded out from meeting a non-person duck for the first time, reacted poorly. She squealed in shock, stumbling back away from the charging bird. Lena, on the other hand, let off a weak pulse of magic that shocked the duck away. It tumbled back with ruffled feathers.

"You okay, sis?" Lena asked, helping Webby up.

"I see what you mean now," Webby said, glaring at the guilty duck.

The duck eyed them warily, and Webby threw some feed at it. Forgetting completely about the transgression, it began to eat.

 **oOo**

"…and I've mostly been adjusting since," Della concluded, "Healing and trying to shake the mindset of always looking over my shoulder."

"And by 'trying', I assume it's been…difficult," Grandma said, taking a sip of her iced tea.

"Yeah. I just get so jumpy now and again. And I'll just lay there at night, almost afraid to go to sleep in case this was all some weird dream…"

"Or something will catch your attention, and old memories wash over you like a wave."

Della looked at her grandmother oddly, but the old duck just smiled sadly.

"You're not the first in the family to suffer from a type of shellshock. My father, your great-grandfather, was a soldier before he was a farmer. And he saw combat."

"Really?"

"Oh yes. He hated talking about it, so I don't have many stories for you. But sometimes, without warning, he'd be back in the thick of it. We learned to deal with it as it came. My mother usually brought him out of it, with great care and love. I once asked him how he could live with what he'd seen and done."

Grandma Duck looked at her granddaughter, her face resolute.

"He told me 'Ellie, scars are nothing to be ashamed of. They remind us of what we lived through, that things happened to us and we came out the other side, bloodied but unbowed. What's important is that we don't let them be _all_ we are. Scars are reminders, but we must not let them define us, or we will never be out of the wars they came from.' You're scarred by your experiences. That's fine. But don't be letting those scars become all you are."

Della let out a slow breath.

"Thanks, Grandma."

"I helped raise you, dear Della. You know you can always talk to me about what's bothering you."

Della hummed as she finished her tea.

"Piglets, you said earlier?" Della asked.

Grandma just smiled at the clear change in subject.

"If you want to look, go ahead. Gus is probably getting ready to feed them…"

 **oOo**

Gus Goose was a distant cousin of Donald. While he worked for Grandma as a farmhand, he had a habit of being fairly lazy, even forgetful at some points. But when it came to taking care of animals, he was oddly diligent.

"Lady ended up having a few more than she can handle," Gus was saying, passing small bottles of milk to the triplets, "So we've had to give these three the care she couldn't. I'll show you how to feed them right, then I need to see to the others."

Huey and Dewey nodded. Louie, much preferring the rabbits they had been seeing to before, was more reluctant.

Gus gave them the instructions and left Donald in charge. With some effort, the boys held the piglets and gave them the milk they needed. However, Louie's piglet was a bit more squirmy than the other two, and kept writhing and bumping against the duck.

Louie yelped as the piglet nearly squirmed right out of his grip, and he dropped the bottle in the process. Thankfully, it didn't spill. Donald headed over and picked it up.

"Here, let me give you a hand," he said.

"This reeks," Louie said, "How is it that every time we come here we get roped into farm chores?"

"Because family helps each other," Donald said harshly, "Watch it, Louie. Grandma's still lucky to have this place. She nearly lost it after Grandpa died."

Louie cringed. In his discomfort, he'd forgotten how much Donald loved the farm.

"You know, Uncle Donald, you like coming here a lot, but you never answered why you didn't stay," Huey said, "Or why you didn't come back full-time after Mom disappeared."

"Honestly? Some of it was pride," Donald replied, "Some of it was that Grandma gave so much raising your mother and I, and I didn't want to add more to it. And some of it was because I had to make a life for us myself."

Donald looked out the barn door over the farm's landscape.

"I've always thought the farm life was simple, but fulfilling. I grew up like that, and I wanted to give you that kind of life."

He sighed.

"Guess I couldn't do it all the way…"

"Bullshit."

Donald jumped and quacked at the new voice, and Della poked her head in from the very door he'd been looking out of. She'd overheard the conversation, and had a resolute look on her face.

"You did more than anyone ever asked you to," she said as she walked in, "You took care of these boys on your own. Maybe they didn't always have the easiest time, but they are wonderful people, and that's because of you."

Della paused a moment, grinding her beak a bit.

"You know, when I realized I wasn't going to make it home any time soon, _really_ realized it, the only thing that held me together was that I knew you would step in. I knew you would raise my children by whatever means you could. I knew I could count on you…I've always known I could count on you. Whatever your flaws, when the chips were down, you were there."

Della hugged her brother tightly.

"Who is the most loyal buck? No one but Donald Duck…"

Donald gave soft quacks of joy as he hugged his twin back.

"I really did miss you, Spitfire."

"I did too, Donnie."

 **oOo**

Everyone ended up staying for dinner. Gus had had a barbeque pot stewing while attending to his duties, and everyone dug in.

"This is the best barbeque I've ever had," Lena said around a mouthful of bun and pork.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Della said absentmindedly. Some aspects of mothering came more easily than others.

"Family recipe," Grandma said, "It's in the sauce."

"Helps that everything, from the pork to the buns, is all homemade," Donald said, "Bread you make yourself is always different from store-bought."

"He should know, he baked most of the bread we had growing up," Dewey snorted.

"It was cheaper that way," Louie added.

"That was hardly the only reason I did it," Donald countered.

"Mom, how's your breathing?" Huey asked.

"For the hundredth time, I'm fine for short periods," Della said, her oxygen tube absent, "Besides, wearing the tube while eating is eight different kinds of awkward."

"It'd probably wreck the taste, too," Webby said, "Some of what we taste comes from what we smell."

"That's weird," Dewey said bluntly.

"It's a neurological link," Huey replied, "Haven't you ever noticed that everything tastes off when you're sick?"

"Do you even remember the last time I got sick?"

"His immune system is made of iron," Donald whispered to Della.

"Oh good, he inherited that from me. Lung condition notwithstanding."

Grandma looked over it all, a smile on her face. She rapped a fork on her glass, then raised it.

"A toast! To family, back together after all these years!"

Everyone grabbed their glasses to raise up.

"With some extras," she added, nodding towards Webby and Lena, "But you know how it is. Family has a way of growing, and in unexpected ways. To family!"

"To family!" the call repeated down the table.

 **oOo**

They all said their goodbyes afterward, with Grandma giving them a container of barbeque to take home. The children waved behind them as the car rolled down the dirt driveway.

"That was actually kind of nice," Lena said, "She didn't even blink when I repaired that glass that broke, so bonus."

"You expected her to freak?" Huey said.

"Well I wasn't expecting a 'burn the witch' thing, but I did expect a bit of wariness, you know?"

"Grandma's been around for a long time, Lena," Donald said, catching her eye in the rearview mirror, "She is remarkably jaded."

Webby sighed happily.

"Cross 'farm' off the bucket list. I see why some people like the country."

"Air's certainly better," Della said, "And you know how important air quality is for me nowadays."

There was a nervous laugh from the others. Della rolled her eyes and turned on the radio. It began to play a familiar song.

"Well that's fitting," Donald said.

Everyone ended up singing along. It was a popular song, easy to get into and hard to escape from, so they knew the words.

 _I'm on my way_

 _Driving at ninety down those country lanes_

 _Singing to "Tiny Dancer"_

 _And I miss the way you make me feel, and it's real_

 _We watched the sunset over the castle on the hill_

* * *

 _With thanks to Ed Sheeran._

 _The title of the trope that Lena and Webby act out is called 'Furry Confusion'. It's basically what happens when Donald Duck meets an actual duck. I imagine that every child of this world has, at some point, encountered a feral (non-person) version of their species, and been struck still by awkward questions. It would be rare for it to happen in the way Lena did, with it being a different type of animal, but I imagine it would happen from time to time._

 _As far as Grandma Duck's farm selling eggs (considering where the triplets and by extension_ every _bird-person in this world comes from), well, my theory is most bird-folk are okay with eating eggs since they're unfertilized, although non-chickens tend to stick to chicken eggs as opposed to more exotic choices like duck or quail, and chickens themselves don't tend to eat omelets (they try not to think too hard about baked goods). Eggs like what the triplets came out of spent some time in their mothers before being laid, sort of similar to a mammalian gestation before transitioning into a fully avian one, so there's another difference._

 _While there are things like pork, beef, or roast poultry, they tend to be avoided by those with a relation to the source, e.g. while Scrooge will eat eggs and bacon for breakfast (that's canon, he calls them hen-fruit), he avoids cooked poultry. Fish have no anthropomorphic equivalent, so seafood is fair game for all. And then there's other species like, say, Dogfaces (which is the actual term in regards to the Goofy-like characters in Disney media). They have no issues in regards to food choices. Jaq the farmhand has never had the issue that Gus Goose would have, since eating mice isn't a thing in their modern society._

 _So…yeah…_

 _Also, whoever put me on the TVTropes Fanfic Rec list for Ducktales, holy cow thanks!_


	14. Lunches and Tea Times

_Since I made you guys wait so long, here's a double-update._

* * *

 **Freedom from Fear**

Chapter 14

Lunches and Tea Times

Scrooge grumbled as he got into the limo, still not quite awake for some reason.

"To the office, Launchpad."

"Sir, yes sir!" came a chipper voice.

A chipper _female_ voice.

Scrooge did a double take towards the driver's seat.

"Della? What the blazes are you doing? Where's Launchpad?"

"You gave him the day off, remember? Family emergency."

It took Scrooge a few seconds before he remembered yesterday's conversation with his driver/pilot.

"Oh, right…"

"So, I thought I'd take you to the office today. Maybe bring you lunch later," Della said, "To be honest, I felt like I needed to get out of the house. I wouldn't trade my family for anything, but they're getting into the habit of hovering, you know?"

"Well, it is understandable they would."

"I don't see you doing it."

"That's right. You don't _see_ me doing it. Doesn't mean it's not happening."

Della just shook her head with a sigh and started the car.

"Anything interesting on the list for today?" she asked.

"Unless something comes up unexpectedly, which is always a possibility in this business, it's probably going to be a simple day," Scrooge replied, "Probably visit Gyro later, he's been working on reverse-engineering that space rifle we brought back with us."

"You think he'll get something out of it?"

"Probably not anything major. We've got decent lasers already. At most, he'll find something to adapt into the current power systems of laser devices. Increase efficiency, and all that."

"Think I can get one?"

"Pardon?"

"I kind of miss owning a laser gun," Della said awkwardly, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel.

Scrooge stared at her for a moment, then laughed.

"I'll see if he can whip something up for you."

"We on for lunch, then?" Della asked.

"There's a deli on Fourth I'm fond of. If I give you an order to take to them-"

"Done."

 **oOo**

When they got to the Money Bin, they found the Buzzard Brothers waiting in the parking garage, looking flummoxed.

"Gentlemen?" Scrooge said as he got out of the limo, "What's the trouble?"

"Trouble in one of the factories," Bradford said, "Turns out, the head manager was not only working his employees extra hard, he was ignoring safety regulations. One of the workers died, and all this was brought to light. This could reflect extremely poorly on us."

"So we'll need to do damage control, then?" Scrooge asked, "I suppose the first step will be compensating the family of the deceased. Perhaps even offer to help pay for the funeral…"

"We'll work that out. We also need to look over our other factories, make a show of checking to see things are up to snuff. At least enough to get the public off our back-"

"And actually make sure there aren't others taking advantage of our workers. Workers we treat right work harder and better, and that provides a solid foundation for this company."

"That will take time," one of the brothers spoke up.

"Anything worth doing is worth doing right the first time."

"Fine," Bradford said, "But first things first, the factory details. We need to do something to save face. This might take a while to sort out, we'll probably end up working through lunch."

"Belay that. I promised Della we would lunch together," Scrooge said, tapping his cane on the ground firmly.

The brothers started, just now noticing Della was there, having gotten out of the limo herself. She leaned against the side, seemingly unconcerned with their surprise.

"These the guys, Uncle Scrooge? The ones that cut off the funding for the search and left me for dead in the coldness of space?" Della said, the harshness of her tone not matching the serene smile on her face.

"Aye, this is them."

Della hummed, walking over and putting her hands on Bradford's shoulders.

"Corporate vultures. I should have guessed. I suppose the life of their employer's beloved niece and a mother-to-be was reduced down to a few figures on a spreadsheet, yes? That's why they forced an abandonment?"

"Well," Bradford began nervously, but was cut off by a swift movement.

Namely, Della's knee shooting up into the fork of his legs.

Bradford went down with a wheeze. Della stepped over him, grabbed his brothers' heads, and knocked them together.

"All is forgiven," she said lightly, "I'll see you for lunch, Uncle Scrooge."

"Try not to cause more trouble, Spitfire," Scrooge replied, ignoring that his niece had just handed his board their collective butts.

Della gave him a smile that said 'who, me?' and got back in the car.

"I can't feel my legs," Bradford moaned in a pitch much higher than should have been possible for a bird his age.

"Sorry, Bradford," Scrooge said, "But you have to admit that you had that coming. I'll see you three upstairs, take your time."

Scrooge ended up getting the briefing on the situation without the Buzzard Brothers, and was halfway through brainstorming solutions by the time they limped into the boardroom.

Not for the first time, Scrooge lamented the death of certain business practices. Gone were the days when he could delegate responsibilities, but still have the final say. Now he had to share power with others, people who didn't help him found the company, didn't share his values, and were often more concerned with their own pockets.

When was the last time the brothers had an idea for generating more revenue as opposed to cutting costs, anyway?

Scrooge shook his head. He understood the need for some modern business practices. For example, he was all for reasonable governmental regulation, it kept people like Glomgold from engaging in more overtly corrupt acts. Other modern practices…well…

At least he could take solace in the power he did have. His controlling interest meant he could mitigate the colder decisions made by the brothers, and keep his own job security. The board couldn't vote him out without sinking the company for good. The legend attached to the name of Scrooge McDuck was too powerful to disappear completely. If he did get ousted out, everyone and their Aunt Pearl would freak. Stocks and approval would plummet. McDuck Industries would perish without Scrooge McDuck, and the board knew it.

So they kept this dance. This power struggle over the multi-trillion company. One day, Scrooge knew, the battle would come to an end. How though, he couldn't see at the moment…

 **oOo**

Della had decided to spend the morning in the city park. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and there were children at play. The wind rustled the trees, creating a soothing sound that served as the underscore to laughter.

Della walked through the park, soaking in the atmosphere. She saw a ball headed her way, and jumped to catch it. A dog came running up to her, and sat down before her, panting.

"Oh, is this yours?" she asked, giving him a scratch, "Who's a sweet puppy?"

The dog's tail wagged, and it nuzzled her hand.

Looking up, Della saw a child standing a little ways away, looking at her. Smiling, she tossed the ball to him.

"Thanks lady!"

"No problem! Keep an eye where you throw that, yeah?"

The boy and his dog ran off, laughter and excited barks accompanying their retreat.

Della sat down on a nearby bench and watched them play catch. She saw more children and another dog join their play. She watched people travel by on their own walks. A mother and her baby stopped nearby, the woman adjusting a sunshield on the stroller even as the baby cooed for attention. In the distance a pretzel vendor called to attract customers.

All the sights and sounds of people, the feeling of the breeze, the field of green rolling before her, it was all so different from the quiet and dust of the Moon. It put her at peace, a peace that she often was hard-pressed to attain.

"I am never trying to go to space again," she said to herself.

 **oOo**

"Alright, so that's memos sent to our manufacturing divisions and McDuck Water and Electric," Scrooge said, "Inspections will be carried out within the next two weeks."

"McDuck Chemical would be next on the list," Bradford said, "Followed by our shipping and aircraft divisions."

"I can ensure our mining division is up to snuff. I got my initial fortune in mining, so I keep a close eye on that division myself."

"Fair. I suppose we should draft a press release-"

"Already done," Scrooge said, "I wrote up a rough draft and sent it to PR to clean up. I wager it'll be on the news by tomorrow."

A knock on the door interrupted them. A secretary poked her head in.

"Mr. McDuck, your niece is back with lunch."

Scrooge checked the clock.

"Bless me bagpipes, how time flies. I'll be out in a minute."

Bradford grumbled, but Scrooge glared at him before standing up.

"We've been at this all morning, Bradford. A short break won't hurt."

"Fine," Bradford grunted, gathering some papers and walking out.

There was a squeak from just beyond the door.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," came Della's voice, and the duck in question soon stepped in.

The other two vultures beat a hasty retreat.

"You've certainly made an impression on my board," Scrooge chuckled.

"The pastrami on rye is yours, the meatball sub and the salad are mine," Della said, setting a bag on the table, "And honestly, how do you put up with those assholes? I looked over the meeting minutes for the past month, those guys are nothing but cut this and defund that."

"You're not wrong," Scrooge said, sitting back down, "I can't remember the last time they had an idea for increasing revenue as opposed to cutting expenses."

"I'm just saying, at some point you have to bring in fresh resources and ideas if a company is going to survive. Relying too heavily on cutting funds and redistributing them is like a cow drinking its own milk to stave off starvation."

"Thank you! That's what I keep trying to tell them!" Scrooge cried, "But ye gods are they stubborn!"

"Probably why you haven't found a way to get rid of them yet," Della said, settling in to her own sandwich.

"Well, they do have some uses, but it does get grating the way we butt heads."

They conversed a little more about various things before Della felt it was time to drop the bomb.

"Uncle Scrooge, I know I've said it before, but I'm sorry. I never should have taken the Spear of Selene, and I should have listened when you said I should turn back. That storm was unlike anything on Earth, but I didn't listen, and it cost us a decade of time."

Scrooge stared at her for a second, setting down a sandwich which suddenly tasted like ashes.

"Della, if anyone's at fault, it's me," Scrooge said, "Donald was right, space was too risky. We never would have been in this position if I hadn't built that rocket. I only wanted good to come from it, but…well, you know that saying about the road to Hell."

Scrooge shook his head.

"When your mother died, I swore an oath on her grave that I would keep you two safe. I failed."

"Uncle Scrooge, I was an adult," Della scoffed, "I was fully capable of making my own decisions, and I chose poorly. It wasn't your job to keep me safe."

"Della, it's always going to be my job to keep you safe."

Della sighed.

"I don't want to argue about this, Uncle Scrooge. You and Donald have shot blame at each other for a decade and I don't want to see that still happening."

"I suppose that's fair," he finally said, "What's done is done. All there is now is making up for lost time."

"And in the spirit of moving on, I have something I want to run by you."

"What?"

"Lena…you got her a therapist."

"She needed it. Serious case of PTSD, that girl."

"I think I might need one too. Five years of imprisonment and another five on the run, struggling to survive…I think I need to see someone is all."

Scrooge took her in for a moment, seeing his normally unshakeable niece slumped and uneasy, and nodded.

"I'll do some research, send out some inquires."

"That would be great, thanks."

Scrooge reached out and touched his niece's shoulder comfortingly. Della smiled back.

 **oOo**

Della spent much of the rest of the day sitting in on the meeting between Scrooge and the board. Her presence unnerved them, and she enjoyed it. It had a bonus effect of leaving them a little less argumentative concerning Scrooge's plans, which her uncle had shared with her. At one point, just to feel useful, she went and fetched a few files from the archives for them. Miss Quackfaster nearly had a heart attack upon seeing her. Della had apologized immediately, and then the archivist had showed her the hidden wing of the archives.

Della wasn't sure how to feel concerning what was essentially a shrine to her. Perhaps it had been Scrooge's way of memorializing her, creating a grave to visit without actually having a gravestone and the connotations therein. She wondered how many others had seen this room, but declined to ask Quackfaster. She wasn't sure she'd like the answer no matter what it was.

When the two got home that evening, they were greeted by Mrs. Beakley.

"We have a number of leftovers cluttering the fridge, so dinner is a foraging sort of affair."

"I do believe there's some pasta with my name on it, then," Scrooge said.

"Everyone else already get theirs?" Della asked.

"The men of the house ate already, then retreated to Donald's boat for some secret project," Beakley answered.

Della nodded. Dewey had mentioned something about a project this morning, but hadn't gone into detail.

"I believe the girls took a sandwich platter and some fruit somewhere."

"Maybe I'll look for them, then. Steal a ham sandwich and some apple slices."

"Because that's not remotely similar to what you had for lunch," Scrooge said, rolling his eyes, "Aren't you still on that diet?"

"I'll consider this my cheat day!" Della called back as she walked off.

Della eventually found Webby and Lena in the former's room, seated around a low table. The sandwich platter, as well as a plate of chopped up fruit, lay between them, along with a tea set. The girls were also wearing large decorated hats that wouldn't look out of place in a fancy church or a garden party, and were laughing together.

"I say, Britannia, would you like some more tea?" Webby asked in a cheesy British accent.

"Roight, Englabeth!" Lena replied in an equally-cheesy Cockney accent, "'ow's that sammich treatin' ya?"

"Oh, most delightful, dear sister! Do try the pomegranate, it has a most interesting taste."

"Oi jus' might 'en."

Lena popped a few pomegranate seeds in her mouth and hummed.

"Real kick ter the tongue, eh?"

"A pleasant one, nonetheless. And please do not talk with your mouth full."

Lena giggled a bit, and was soon joined by Webby.

"I say, Sir Fred," Webby said, "Do have some yourself!"

Webby held out the half of pomegranate from the plate toward what appeared to be an empty chair. Suddenly, a tentacle reared up, gently took the fruit, and slipped back out of view. There was a wet popping sound, and a guttural 'eh'. The pomegranate was placed on the plate before the chair, a cluster of seeds missing.

"Well, 'e tried," Lena said.

Della cleared her throat, and the girls looked up, freezing.

"We can explain," a wide-eyed Webby said, the accent gone.

"Ach, no need!" Della replied, "Ah ken see ye two havin' a right corker of a party. Might Ah join ye?"

The girls' jaws dropped at the thick Scottish accent Della spoke in, but slowly nodded. Della sat down with a smile.

"My mother was a Scottish immigrant and I grew up with a Scotsman as my guardian, of course I picked up the accent," she stage-whispered, before swapping back into the accent, "Do pour me a dram, wood'ye?"

"Oh, but of course, Lady McDuck!" Webby said, recovering quickly and pouring Della some tea, "A pleasure to have you!"

"Quite, yeah?" Lena added.

"So, whit dae ye have ta eat?" Della asked Webby.

"A pleasant assortment of fruits, a collection of ham and cheese sandwiches, and a most lovely pot of berry tea. A more pleasant taste than the nutmeg Uncle Scrooge prefers."

"Good, ne'er did get the taste for tha'," Della replied, before dropping her accent, "Okay, but in all seriousness, how are you two doing the accents?"

"I grew up with my English Granny in a Scottish mansion," Webby explained, "I didn't hear an American accent 'til I was seven."

"Magica's got a British accent," Lena said, "Which is weird, because she's apparently Italian? I don't really know how that's supposed to work."

"Second question, what's with the tentacle monster?" Della asked.

"What, girl can't have a pet?"

Fred picked up one of the sandwiches and yanked it into his box. Della decided she didn't want to know where Lena got a pet tentacle monster. Instead, she simply sipped her tea.

She hummed a bit and smacked her beak before asking if there was any honey.

A tentacle reached up and out the door, slithering its way down the hall.

"How long can he go?" Della asked as more mottled flesh passed by.

"Haven't figured that out," Lena said, "The box is either a stable portal to another dimension, or itself dimensionally transcendental—"

"What?" Webby asked.

"Bigger on the inside. Theoretically, Fred could be bigger than the mansion."

"Which suddenly makes me concerned about the food bill," Della said.

"Nah, he seems to get what he needs from whatever void he inhabits. The snacks I give him are just that, snacks."

Fred's tentacle finally came back with a bottle of honey, which Della took.

"Thank you."

A moment later, Donald rushed to the door, his eyes wild. He stopped upon seeing the little tea party. Fred waved a tentacle at him.

"Right…sorry, ladies."

Donald walked off, muttering unintelligibly.

"So," Webby asked slowly, "Has Donald always been that…high-strung?"

"Well, you have to understand, Donald's kind of danger-prone," Della said, "Always getting into scrapes through no fault of his own. If it weren't for McDuck constitution, he'd probably be dead several times over from all the pain that's been inflicted on him over the years. So if he's a bit paranoid, it's for good reason. Mind you, my own adventurous spirit didn't help much of the time…"

"I can easily imagine you as a troublemaker when you were a kid," Lena laughed.

"I'll take that as a compliment. But yeah, I've always had a lot more daring than a duck my size would logically have, and it's gotten us both in just as many scrapes as it's gotten us out."

"What was it like, being raised by Scrooge?" Webby asked. Questions bubbled up inside her, but she did her best to tamp them down and not overwhelm her subject.

"Well, it was certainly an unconventional childhood, I'll tell you. I spent my sweet sixteen in the clutches of some angry tribesmen, I learned to drive in a Rolls Royce, I once had to make rope out of a monkey's fur-"

"Ew," Lena interjected.

"Actually, he kept himself really clean, so it wasn't as bad as you'd think."

"What was your favorite adventure?" Webby asked.

"There've been so many good ones, it's hard to pick just one."

Della paused for a second.

"Actually, have you ever heard the Mokele-mbembe?"

"The what?" Lena asked, but Webby gasped.

"You've actually seen one?"

"I was nearly eaten by one!" Della replied, "So, deep in the Congo, in places modernity has barely touched, there live tribes of native folk that rarely interact with the rest of the world. Just because the globe's been mapped doesn't mean it's been explored, you understand. And they tell stories of a creature called Mokele-mbembe."

"But what is it?" Lena asked.

"It's a dinosaur."

" _What?"_

"Mokele-mbembe is a cryptid, an animal whose existence is not fully substantiated by science," said Webby, "Think Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster…although according to the boys, there are a few Bigfoots lurking in the woods in the area. Mokele-mbembe is a cryptid resembling a sauropod dinosaur, indicating a similar 'living fossil' idea behind Nessie."

"Although if that's the case, they've turned from herbivores to omnivores at least, possibly even carnivores," Della said, "Like I said, I nearly lost a leg to the one we found."

Webby looked at Della with stars in her eyes, silently begging for more information. Della chuckled as she grabbed a sandwich.

"Okay, so the three of us had traveled to the Congo hoping to find some exotic plant and animal specimens to study. We brought a crew of jungle experts and a pair of scientists for the expedition, and intended to contact one of the native tribes to serve as guides…"

As Della wove her tale, Lena was torn between paying attention and watching Webby. The young duck was practically vibrating with excitement, enraptured with the story. Lena suppressed a chuckle. This kind of stuff was right up Webby's alley. Della had better get used to telling stories.

"…so three of the things are stampeding through the camp, destroying a lot of equipment. That's why we were never able to adequately prove what happened. Biologists are very 'video or it didn't happen'. One of them made a snap at me, so I swung my machete. Knocked out one of its teeth, that made it back off. That tooth is probably still somewhere around here, now that I think of it. Eventually, we all made enough noise to prove we weren't worth the hassle, and the lizards stomped off. But with so much equipment destroyed, we were forced to turn back."

"That's a shame," Webby said.

"Kind of was, but it did stop Donald from freaking out after seeing his sister nearly get chomped. Our native guide told us the full story of what just happened on the way back. Apparently, his people sometimes encountered signs of Mokele-mbembe, and knew how to avoid a confrontation. Little hard to fight a giant lizard with spears and arrows."

"There's always aiming for the eye."

"But not everyone's a sharpshooter."

Della picked a lock of hair out of the way of her face.

"Doesn't that get annoying, adjusting all that hair all the time?" Lena asked.

"I've gotten used to it, but it does get in the way sometimes, sure," Della replied.

Webby suddenly gasped, smiling and clapping her hands together before rushing up her ladder and into her bed-loft. She came back with a hair brush and a hand mirror, then dragged her chair closer to Della and stood on it.

"Hold still, I could braid it for you," she said, "You don't mind, do you?"

"Do you actually know how?" Della asked.

"Sure! I used to have long hair when I was younger, but after experimenting, I decided I liked it shorter."

"Well, it might make a change from ties and bands like I used to use…why not?"

Webby chirped in glee, and got to work. She brushed out Della's hair and showed her how to separate and weave the locks.

"You should probably consider trimming the front a bit, too," Lena interjected, "Just to even it out."

"You think?" Della asked.

"Yeah. I mean, I kind of know a bit about personal hair-care," she replied, flicking her colored fringe.

"Oh yeah, you would," Webby said, "You probably cut it yourself, and then there's your dyed fringe."

"What dye?"

Webby and Della stared at her.

"You mean that color is real?" Della said.

"You ever hear of a witch mark? Like a funny wart or mole or something? The De Spells, and by extension Le Stranges, have all had odd colored streaks in their hair."

"Huh. Now that you mention it, Magica did have that streak of purple," Webby said, "I just assumed it was magic hair dye."

"I do know how to make that," Lena shrugged, "Longer-lasting color, no damage to the hair, that sort of thing. I've used it in the past to make the color pop a bit. But this light purple/pink thing, that's natural."

"Who'd have thunk?" Della said, "So is that actual eyeshadow, then?"

"Yes, that's actually makeup," Lena deadpanned.

"Just checking."

"And done!" Webby cried, before handing over the hand mirror and asking Della for her opinion.

Della twisted her head about, then swung the braid over one shoulder and smiled.

"I look _good_."

"Yes, it is true. I do have mad skills," Webby grinned.

"It suits you," Lena said, giving a thumbs up, "Very Snow Queen Elsa."

"Snow what?" Della asked.

Webby's gasp was more like a jet engine sucking in air.

"Well, add that to the slate for movie nights," Lena said, rubbing Webby's back, "It's okay, Pink. It's not her fault, and we can still fix it. Breathe."

* * *

 _You see why I don't do accents? It's as odd to read as it is to write. Some people can write accents. I can't._

 _Webby is totally a fan of this universe's Frozen, and she got Lena hooked. Lena likes it just as much, but will never admit it to anyone besides Webby. Elsa and Anna are foxes._


	15. Forced Spelunking

_So apparently Beijing is still called Peking in this world. I'm not making that up, Webby references it in the opening of Daytrip of Doom._

 _That has nothing to do with what's going to happen in this chapter, I just thought that was interesting._

* * *

 **Freedom from Fear**

Chapter 15

Forced Spelunking

The sword was said to have belonged to the legendary Hua Mulan. It granted her incredible luck in combat, and combined with her courage and determination, made her unstoppable on the battlefield. Upon her death, the blade changed hands, often quickly. It could almost be said that the sword didn't like its new masters, because it never remained in their hands for long. The last owner had owned a small mine, but the mine had been buried under a freak avalanche that claimed the lives of all involved, including the owner.

The story might as well have had a neon sign attached to it saying 'MCDUCK ADVENTURE!'

Sadly, that neon sign ended up attracting another interested party…

 **oOo**

"What exactly did this place mine?" Della asked as they picked their way over the foothills.

"Records are lost, it was a pretty long time ago," Huey said, "Not helped by the political and economic upheavals over the last century."

"Tell me about it," Scrooge grumbled, "China's a fast-growing economic power with a lot of weight to throw around. Dealing with them is just good business. Doesn't mean I don't feel slimy doing it. The civil rights abuses alone-"

"Yeah, I'd rather not open that can of worms right now, thank you," Lena interjected.

Any further conversation was halted when they turned a corner on the mountain and came face to face with Magica De Spell.

The two parties stared at each other for a moment, sheer shock paralyzing them. Louie finally broke the silence, rubbing the bridge of his beak.

"Of course."

Action exploded into being. Webby and Scrooge charged at Magica, who threw down a smoke bomb to disorient them. Lena whipped her knapsack around, a standard issue mountaineering pack that Scrooge had given everyone, rummaging through it for the Hand of Phobos.

Then the mountain wind shifted.

The smoke from the bomb spread, covering everything. Coughing erupted from everyone, and they tried to scatter to be escape the cloud.

"Need to adjust—cough—the foof bomb mix," Magica could be heard coughing.

"You think?" Scrooge shot back.

Della could be heard coughing harder than the others, and the boys tried to make their way to her, worried that the smoke was irritating her lung condition.

Lena stumbled through the smoke and ran right into someone. The impact parted a bit of the smoke, revealing that it was Magica she'd rammed into. She reached for the Hand, but Magica lunged, trying to stop her from donning it. In the process, she dropped the potion vial she'd palmed in the chaos.

The vial broke over the ground and the contents exploded. The earth beneath them cracked and gave way.

The smoke finally cleared from the force of the explosion. Webby was the first to rise, looking around wildly. She spotted a gleam of bronze and rushed forward.

"Oh no," she gasped.

The Hand of Phobos lay next to a deep pit in the earth. The yawning darkness spread before her like a gaping wound.

"Lena…"

 **oOo**

Lena groaned as she awoke. Her hand went to her head and touched wetness. Feeling around, she found the edges of the cut and sealed it with a simple spell.

" _Da mihi lumen_ ," she muttered, and a ball of light appeared above her hand.

Looking around, she found that she was in a rocky tunnel.

"Must be a part of the mine," she muttered.

She looked up, but saw nothing but darkness above her.

"Definitely deep."

She took a few calming breaths, then look around her immediate area, hoping to find her gauntlet and use one of the summons to tunnel her way back to the surface.

As she turned, she found an angry face inches from her own. She barely had time to squawk in shock before Magica was upon her.

The sorceress' hands wrapped around her throat and squeezed.

"Isn't this nice, little niece?" Magica chuckled darkly, "Just you and me. I can punish you for being so naughty without Scroogie or the pink one interfering."

Lena saw spots, and instinct took over. A pulse of power erupted from her hands, blowing the two away from each other. Lena took great gasps and rubbed at her neck. Magica groaned as she separated herself from the wall.

"The hell was that?" Lena gasped.

"Me getting a bit of revenge, what did it look like?" Magica shot back.

"We're stuck who knows how deep underground, no resources and no idea how to get out, and your first thought is to try and kill me? You are messed up, you know that?"

"I don't expect you to understand-"

"No, I frankly don't, because even if you did kill me, you'd still be down here, but you'd be alone!"

Lena took a moment to center herself. There was a voice in her head screaming at her not to do this, but there weren't any options.

"Look, the only way either of us gets out of here in one piece is together. As much as I _really_ don't want to work with you again, it's the only way we're surviving. So how about you put a pin in your murder thing and we can deal with it after we hit daylight?"

Magica stared at her for a long time before finally sighing.

"Fine. Turning back into a shadow down here would just make it more difficult to find a way out."

"Great."

And the two began to walk.

They spent time mostly in silence, a thick tension in the air. When Lena's light spell started to flicker, Magica conjured a new one with a snide comment about inexperience. When that one started to die, Lena made a comment about age and conjured a new one. But mostly, they tried to ignore each other.

"I heard Della Duck returned," Magica said, growing tired of the quiet.

"She was on the moon with aliens."

"Seriously?"

"Are you really that shocked, considering this family?"

Magica grumbled, but conceded the point.

"You still working for Glomgold?" Lena asked.

"I'm not _working_ for that idiot, it's a mutually beneficial pact. At the moment, I'm aiding his chemical division, using my alchemy knowledge for research purposes."

"That sounds a lot like you're working for him. Room and board part of your contract?"

"Shut up. Scrooge no doubt has you doing the same thing."

"Actually, no. We had that conversation, but we agreed to wait until I was older and call it an internship. But I am supplying the Magic Box with freelance potion work."

Magica suddenly stopped.

"It was you."

"What was me?" Lena asked.

"I tried to go there for potion ingredients, but Black Arts Beagle gave me the runaround. When I finally snapped at him, he grunted something about abusers. You fed him some story about me, didn't you?"

"I didn't tell him very much. But it wouldn't have been a story," Lena grunted.

Magica snarled and started walking again.

"Unbelievable. Incredible power at my fingertips, and now look at me. Forced to scrounge like a rat to survive. A charlatan who runs a shop acts like he's better than me-"

"Statistically, he probably is," Lena muttered, but Magica kept going.

"A moron who can barely keep his business together for a week is my landlord, I can barely keep my own body in a stable state, and now I'm stuck in a cave with the reason for my fall."

Then it was Lena's turn to suddenly stop.

" _Excuse me?"_

"You heard me. If you'd done your job when I told you to, all this could have been avoided. Scrooge would be dead, I'd be at full power and doing whatever my dark heart desired, and you'd…actually, I don't know or care what you'd be doing, but I'm sure it'd be fine. Instead, I'm at a fraction of my strength, going through life by the skin of my beak and working to scavenge whatever scraps of magic I can. And it's all on you, you stupid girl. Why couldn't you have just followed orders like a good little minion?"

Lena inhaled sharply, and her hands squeezed into fists.

In point of fact, Lena had been fighting off an anxiety attack for the entire time stuck underground. Between the looming darkness, the stale and claustrophobic air, and especially being around Magica again, she'd been dedicating a lot of her brain space to forcing herself to remain calm. It was the reason for the silence, trying to ignore her former guardian's presence as much as possible.

One would have thought that, between her therapy and the mental state required for mastering the Hand of Phobos, Lena wouldn't have anxiety. After all, if she held the allegiance of an artifact created by a fear god, surely that meant she had conquered her own fears?

That person clearly didn't know the first thing about anxiety. The fact was, as Doctor Van Horn best put it, "Mental problems don't just disappear, especially anxiety. There's no miracle pill or magic bullet that will solve that problem. There is really only living with it, mitigating the symptoms and dealing with the thoughts when they come back."

Thusly, Lena still had anxiety. She still had bad days, moments when the old thoughts and fears swirled in her head with no signs of stopping. She was getting better at dealing with it, at reaching out when things got too bad, but it was still there. Being around Magica again brought all those old thoughts bubbling to the surface, no matter how she tried to disguise it with sarcasm and a cool façade.

Now, however, all that anxiety was being overshadowed by a feeling of _**unyielding rage.**_

"How dare you," Lena whispered, "After all you did, how _dare_ you claim to have gotten off worse?"

"You're living in a mansion, Lena," Magica scoffed, "By definition-"

" _YOU RUINED MY LIFE!_ " Lena roared, "Do you have any idea what you did to me?"

Lena's eyes glowed and stray sparks of magic shot from her hands and she began to rant.

"You…were… _abusive_. The things you did to me, I'll spend my whole life getting away from. Every other word out of your mouth was either a negative scream against me, tearing down my will and confidence, or it was manipulative, something to get me to dance to your tune in the vain hopes of the smallest amount of affection. You _used_ me. You manipulated, belittled, insulted, and gaslit me. You stole my freaking body from me! I was a child! I wanted someone to love me, but you never gave me even an ounce of care and compassion. I was nothing to you, just a tool!"

Tears began to form in her eyes.

"I had to unlearn so much of what you programmed into me, and it's been some of the hardest things I've ever done. I had to learn that home could be a safe place, that family isn't supposed to yell and berate you, that how I was treated was _not normal_. I catch myself thinking this or that awful thing, things about myself that I _know_ are wrong but they still bubble up from deep inside without warning. I have anxiety and sometimes depression. I have trouble getting out of bed some mornings, and I sometimes have to slip away to be alone, reorient my brain after too much going on around me. And my nightmares…great Gaia, my nightmares! A lot of them are mostly shock value now, but there have been some nights that I've been so keyed up from them that I can't go back to sleep. I just summon something fluffy, usually Skadi, and sit by the window looking at the stars until morning. It's not healthy, I know it's not, but that's what it is!"

Lena looked at Magica with a gaze filled with fury.

"And the worst part about all this is that I can barely talk about what's bothering me sometimes. Not to Webby, not to the boys, not to Scrooge or Beakley or Doc Van Horn. Della gets some of it, but I still feel like the words won't come. And right now, it's all spilling out, and it's to _**you**_."

Magica actually flinched at the sheer bile being forced into a single word.

"And now you have the gall to stand there like I'm the one at fault? Bullshit, lady! You treated me like scum, tore me apart and tried to rebuild me into a tin toy! I am not going to apologize for striking back at an abuser!"

"I was-"

" _Being a heinous bitch!"_ Lena spat, "That's all you ever do! You're a pile of toxic sludge in the shape of a duck and your every action makes people miserable!"

Lena got a smug grin on her face, a strange juxtaposition to the angry tears still dripping down her face.

"But I got away. I still have scars, but I found a place where I can be safe and warm and happy and loved and doesn't that just burn you up inside? That despite all you did to me, all those years of _pretending_ to be family, that I found something better? That I survived your best efforts and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it?"

Magica scowled at her.

"Oh, did I hit a nerve?" Lena asked mockingly.

"Sentimental fool," Magica growled.

"Better a sentimental fool than a failure like you."

"Failure?"

The shock and anger in Magica's voice was delicious, and Lena basked in it.

"Yeah, failure. Scrooge is still kicking and you're, by your own admission, scavenging like a rat in a sewer."

"I never said sewer. And you really think this is the endgame? The blood feud-"

"Actually, I'm glad you brought that up. This blood feud, this centuries-old thing, the thing you felt the need to abuse a little girl over? What's it actually accomplished?"

Magica gawked at her.

"I actually got the stories from Scrooge. The family histories, previous clashes between De Spells and McDucks. You know what I found? A lot of pointless _nothing_. Centuries of pain and suffering with neither side ever gaining a decisive victory over the other. The two families down to their last few members thanks to either the feud or sheer bad luck. Hell, no one even knows how it started anymore! The McDuck histories were completely blank on that! Do _you_ even know how it started?"

Magica was silent. Lena smirked and continued.

"So, centuries of squabbling over something no one remembers, with nothing to show for it but death and pain. I tried to find any good that came from the feud, and you know what I found? Big fat goose egg! The only good things came when the blood feud was _ignored_. Scrooge had no idea you existed when he started out, and he went on to be a trillionaire. The Le Stranges turned their backs on the feud, and-"

"And it cost them," Magica muttered darkly.

Lena stopped short. Magica took advantage of the pause to gloat.

"Poor little Lena. You did all this research and you missed the most important point. Yes, your line cast aside the feud. But when we could, we De Spells punished the traitors. Your parents were the last, and they hid themselves well. But my brother was good at what he did. Poe found them and ended them."

Lena inhaled sharply, and Magica basked in her pain.

"Of course, then he got hit with your father's dying curse, but all the same…"

She chuckled and gave the young duck an evil grin.

"That's what you don't understand, dear niece. The blood feud will be satisfied, no matter what. And traitors will be dealt with. That's the way things work. And there is no escaping that fact."

It would only be later that Lena pieced together what happened. She had been overcome with so much rage that her conscious mind had blacked out. The order of events were as follows:

Lena's rage boosted her magic, allowing her to blast Magica hard, sending the sorceress through a wall and into a parallel tunnel.

That tunnel happened to be the resting place for Hua Mulan's sword, which Magica quickly grabbed.

With a determined cackle, Magica had begun blasting magic indiscriminately, trusting the luck-granting powers of the sword to aim her bolts most effectively.

The ceiling caved in, setting off a chain of collapse that opened a path to the surface.

Magica morphed into a vulture to escape, the sword clutched in her talons.

And the ceiling collapse hit Lena, causing her to lose consciousness.

 **oOo**

Lena came back to the world slowly. The first thing she became aware of was pain in her leg. The second was Scrooge standing over her, looking worried.

"Lena, can you hear me? How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Two? What happened?"

"Near as we can tell, Magica got the sword and used it to guarantee her escape. Della and I found you at the bottom of the hole. We're flying home now."

"Why's my foot hurt?"

"Pretty sure that's a twisted ankle, but I'd rather get you checked out by a real doctor. Make sure you don't have a concussion as well."

Lena slowly sat up, immediately spotting Webby in a chair next to her. The young duck was sleeping, clutching the Hand of Phobos like a teddy bear.

"She's been quite worried," Scrooge said, following Lena's gaze, "You've been out for hours."

A fond smile graced Lena's face, then she frowned as the recent events fully came back to her.

"I was stuck down there with Magica."

"Did she hurt you?" Scrooge immediately asked, fire in his eyes.

"She tried before I convinced her that it wouldn't do any good considering we were both stuck down there. It wasn't easy though. I barely kept myself together while I was down there. I did read her the riot act, though. That helped."

"I'll bet."

"But she told me something. About my parents. I'd brought up the blood feud and how stupid it was, and she threw it back in my face. She claimed that her brother Poe had hunted down my parents and killed them for 'betraying the family line' or some junk."

"Poe, that name does sound familiar," Scrooge said, tapping his chin, "He teamed up with Magica a few times back in the day. I stopped seeing him after a while, though."

"That's because my father hit him with a last-minute dying curse. Magica made it sound like Poe was dead."

"Good riddance. He wasn't as unhinged as his sister, but he was still a dangerous bird."

Lena sighed.

"I'm pretty sure Magica was telling the truth. There wasn't a reason for her to lie to me about that, especially considering our situation. We were both yelling at each other, of course she'd try to hurt me like that. I just…I don't know what to think about it. I always knew they were dead, but I never knew anything about them. Magica never spoke of them. She talked about my grandfather, but I got the feeling that was mostly respect for him as a sorcerer. I don't even know what my parents' names were."

Lena stared off into the middle distance. Scrooge put a hand on her shoulder.

"The past is past. They didn't have you for long, and you never really knew them. Cold as it sounds, there's nothing there for you to miss. Focus on the now."

"I'm sorry I couldn't stop Magica."

"The important thing is that you're safe, lass. We'll get her next time."

 **oOo**

It had taken two days to heal both physically and mentally from the encounter with Magica. Her anxiety was harsher, as if making up for not paralyzing her while before her old abuser. Webby was a godsend during that time, attentive to a fault.

Once Lena had finally pulled herself together, she started planning on a new project. The right runic schemes were easy to find, it was finding a way to incorporate the magic that was the tricky part.

But she felt like she'd cracked it.

Lena slowly poured the hot metal into the mold. After waiting a moment, she motioned to Skadi. The fox breathed a chilly mist, speeding up the cooling process.

With her magical vision enhanced by the Hand, she saw sparks of raw magic settle, firming up alongside the metal. She smiled. It was nearly done.

About an hour later, and she was slipping the newly-crafted-and-enchanted ring onto her finger. She briefly observed the Nordic runes she's painstakingly etched around the band and nodded. She flexed her hand as she walked across the room, away from her gauntlet. Then, with a deep breath, she turned and reached her hand out.

"Come," she said, invoking her magic and will.

The Hand of Phobos lifted up into the air and flew towards her. She snatched it out of the air once it got close.

"Ha! Thor, eat your heart out!"

She tapped the gauntlet, a wide grin on her face.

"Not going to be caught without you again, no I'm not!"

 **oOo**

Weeks later, the mansion would be paid a visit by Gladstone Gander, who had come across an obviously magical artifact and wanted Scrooge's opinion on it.

It turned out to be the sword of Hua Mulan, although how it got from Magica to Gladstone, none of them were ever able to figure out.

"It literally fell out of the sky and landed between me and a would-be mugger," Gladstone had said, shrugging, "He was more stunned than I was, so I grabbed the sword and threatened him until he skedaddled. Even for my luck, it was weird."

* * *

 _So unfortunately, my muse has stalled out with this story. This chapter alone took weeks of off-and-on planning and writing to finally get done. I really hate to do this to you, especially after so soon coming back, but I need to put this story on the back burner. I'll still update when I can, but the keyword is '_ when I can' _. When I have a chapter done, I'll post is as soon as possible, but that's all I can promise._

 _Please don't inundate me with pleas/whines for me to update. It wouldn't help._


	16. Another Talespin

HI!

 _So I came up with this idea LONG before we got the confirmation that we'd have a full Talespin crossover in Season 3. I loved the show as a kid and I'm excited to see where it goes.  
_

 _Also, am I the only one disappointed that the show's version of Don Karnage isn't voiced by Jim Cummings_

* * *

 **Freedom from Fear**

Chapter 16

Another Talespin

Cape Suzette had an interesting history.

Between its strategic location and the high cliff walls surrounding a natural harbor, it had thrived in the past as both a military and trading port. But as war changed, Cape Suzette lost a lot of prestige.

However, it still had thriving businesses, and an excellent tourist trade. The keystone of the latter was the famous Cape Suzette Aviation Museum, home to a large collection of planes from all over history. The museum was also one of the main hosts of the Cape Suzette Airshow, a massive endeavor held every five years that attracted pilots and aviation enthusiasts from all over the world.

And while McDuck Enterprises had been unable to send a representative to the show, due to an accident in one of the factories that had delayed the production of a new engine that Scrooge had been hoping to showcase, the whole clan had decided to go see the show anyway.

Della hadn't stopped smiling in three days. It was starting to creep a few of them out.

The smile dipped during the flight over. It was the first time that Della and Launchpad had shared a cockpit, and the feathers were already starting to fly.

"And why was the landing pontoon attached with _gum_?" came Della's growl.

"I used to use superglue, but that proved…tricky. And I can't believe you almost got rid of Nibbles," Launchpad fired back.

"You shouldn't need a hamster to spin the propellers!"

"He was the turbo-boost!"

"Unless he's on the greatest steroids in the universe, I don't see how that's possible."

Huey looked back at his brothers and the girls.

"You know, we really should have seen this coming after we came to see the Sunchaser lying in several pieces."

"I saw this coming considering Launchpad's flight record," Louie countered, "Even Webby's super-brain has lost track of how often he's crashed."

"It truly is amazing how this plane is still airworthy," Webby supplied.

"Swear to Gaia, sometimes flying with Launchpad is worse for my anxiety than the Magica nightmares," Lena muttered from behind her phone. Focusing on a puzzle game kept said anxiety from getting worse thanks to the arguing filtering from the front of the plane.

Dewey didn't join in the conversation. He honestly felt caught between his mother and one of his best friends. While he freely admitted that Launchpad wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, he still felt a need to defend the big lug. For once, though, he had no courage to get in on the action.

"Why does this seat still feel so loose?"

"It's so you can turn to the passengers. It reassures them when you can look into their eyes in the event of a crash."

"Well, we're not going to crash!"

"You seem tense."

"We're inside six tons of metal, that I just had to reassemble mind you, traveling hundreds of feet in the air at incredible speeds!"

"Wow, you are Donald's sister."

There was a simultaneous angry squawk from the cockpit and from a few seats down from Louie.

"I've had enough of this," Scrooge muttered, getting up, "They've been going at it for the past hour."

He stomped up to the cockpit in full Scottish indignation.

"Do you two scowling sky-jockeys mind not killing each other until we get to Cape Suzette?"

The kids tuned things out as Scrooge built up into a rant.

"How much longer is the trip?" Dewey asked.

"About another hour," Huey said, checking his phone.

Scrooge eventually came down. On the way back to his seat, he poked at Lena.

"If they start up again, you can send up the minotaur to loom over them and keep them focused on flying."

"Wow, you are desperate for options," Lena snarked, "But I'll keep that in mind. Might use Ella the harpy, though. Better evil eye."

 **oOo**

Cape Suzette was abuzz with activity. Large portions of the city had given way to celebrations, taking advantage of the increased tourism that the show brought. The area around the airfield resembled an outdoor concert, with tents and blankets sprawled around between concession stands and picnic tables.

The children had to be carefully wrangled by the adults, even if they had caught some of the excitement.

"I wonder if the Blue Angels made it this year," Della said.

"I'm hoping for the AeroSuperBatics," Launchpad replied, "Those guys are nuts!"

"The who?" asked Louie.

"They're a propeller plane team based out of England. They do a lot of techniques where an acrobat performs on the wings of the plane."

"That sounds awesome!" Dewey said.

"And terrifying," Lena added.

"It does take nerves of steel," Scrooge agreed, "There's probably a program at one of the concessions stands if you want to look."

Launchpad and Donald led the children to get some snacks and a show program. Meanwhile, Della turned to Scrooge.

"Uncle Scrooge, I've been sitting on this for a while, and I don't think I can wait anymore. You know Launchpad's a bad pilot, right?"

"From a certain point of view, maybe," Scrooge replied, "If your ego in the pilot's seat weren't getting in the way, you'd see what I see."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Scrooge chuckled a bit.

"Truth is, Launchpad is actually a savant with mechanics and aeronautics, even if his landing skills are poor. And he's been my personal driver for years, able to get me where I need to be with little regard for bad traffic. Between all that and the unlikelihood of finding another driver/pilot that could keep up with the insanity of this clan…well, you can see why I keep him on."

Della looked between Scrooge and the distant Launchpad, who was trying and failing to eat some cotton candy.

"Okay, when you say savant…"

"There's all kinds of intellect, Spitfire. There's the kind that lets you win game shows, and the kind that lets you drive any vehicle with ease no matter the terrain or obstacles. Put him at the wheel of just about any machine, and he can figure it out almost instinctively. Why, my first adventure with the kids, he piloted a submarine perfectly despite having no experience. Launchpad's a moron, I won't argue that, but the skills he has are impressive. When the chips are down, those skills can be trusted. You might want to keep a more open mind."

Scrooge chuckled as he walked to join the rest of the family, leaving Della to ponder the conversation.

 **oOo**

After a few dazzling displays from various teams, the next one caused a groan to erupt from Della's beak.

"The Lightning Storms are still a thing?" she scowled, her fingers crumpling the program she'd been reading.

"Unfortunately," Donald grumbled, "The attitude hasn't changed either. From what I've heard, they're still a pack of moronic prima-donnas. There have been a lot of scandals about safety and reckless tricks, and they've brushed off all the concerns."

"They actually tried to approach McDuck Industries for sponsorship deals in exchange for offering to be test pilots," Scrooge added, "But between the smarminess of the spokesman and the research I did, I decided that they weren't worth my time."

"Maybe we can skip this one," Launchpad offered.

"Are they really that bad?" Dewey asked.

"Yes," the adults chorused.

"The museum looked interesting," Webby piped up.

"All in favor?" Scrooge asked.

There was some hemming and hawing, but it was decided to check out the Aviation Museum.

 **oOo**

The Aviation Museum, a large building that was like several airplane hangars stuck together, was fairly empty, most people out watching the airshow. There were a few groups of people taking a break from the show and the outdoor heat, but otherwise, the clan had the run of the place.

The children shot to and fro across the main hub of the museum, gawking at the planes on the ground and hung in the air. Huey played tour guide for his brothers, while Lena and Webby ducked toward the space exhibit. Della had taken one look at said exhibit and jumped at seeing a few old naval planes with her brother. Donald pretended not to notice how pale and twitchy she'd gotten. Scrooge took in the sight of a helicopter, remembering having once owned a similar one. Launchpad was drawn to an old stealth plane.

It would actually be him that spotted the special exhibit, and called everyone over.

It was an old cargo plane, mostly yellow with red accents. The propellers gleamed in the light, and the pontoons looked freshly cleaned.

"The Sea Duck," Launchpad said reverently.

"Holy cow, this thing's a legend!" Della all but squealed.

"Hey, isn't that the plane on the tourist brochures for Cape Suzette?" asked Louie.

"And for good reason," Launchpad replied, "This bird was at the center of a lot of big events in the city's history. Her and her pilot are practically local folk heroes!"

"Pilot?" Webby asked.

"Baloo von Bruinwald XIII," came a voice, "He was a bush pilot with a knack for getting into crazy adventures and coming out on top."

The group turned to spot an elderly bear making their way towards them.

"Eric Cloudkicker," he introduced, "I'm the museum curator. I hear some appreciation for our most distinguished exhibit."

"And how!" Della replied, "Air pirates in the 30s, recon missions for the Allies in the 40s, and a whole lot of high-flying adventures in between. The legend of Baloo was an inspiration to me!"

"Hey, me too!" Launchpad said excitedly, "You ever hear about his Pelican Dive?"

"I've studied aeronautics for years and I still don't know how he pulled that off. Or how about recovering the Ruby Wings of Walla Walla Bing Bang?"

"Or Howard Huge and the Titanium Turkey?"

"Or the lost city of Tinabula?"

"Okay, we get it, you're fans!" Louie shouted.

"Good thing Baloo isn't here," Eric said, "He'd definitely get a swelled head over this."

"You say that like you knew him," Scrooge said.

Eric chuckled a bit at that.

"I'm surprised you didn't, given how old you're supposed to be, Mr. McDuck. But yes, I knew him when I was a child. Although not as a famous pilot. I knew him as Gramps."

Jaws dropped at that pronunciation.

"My father, Kit Cloudkicker, met Baloo as a child and was later adopted by him. Although to hear him, Gramps, and Aunt Molly tell it, the paperwork for it took a few years to actually get done. When I first heard that story, I could honestly believe that. Gramps could be fairly lazy and irresponsible sometimes. Couldn't handle money to save his life, either. Nonetheless, he could be a very selfless person, willing to lend a kind ear and word for someone who needed it, and he loved his family and his job."

Eric cast his gaze over the Sea Duck, frowning a bit.

"He took me up a few times in that. The Sea Duck was his life. He'd be heartbroken to see it gather dust like this."

"Why don't you take it up?" asked Launchpad, "You're the museum curator, you could give permission for a flight."

"I took the job partially from a love of aviation, and partly to preserve my grandfather's prized plane. I'd love to let her feel the air again, but she's an antique. Hasn't flown in years. I doubt she could take the strain for very long."

"I dunno," Della said, looking over the plane with a practiced eye, "Something tells me this bird is sturdier than expected…"

Suddenly, there was an explosion in the distance…

 **oOo**

Cape Suzette had an interesting history.

Part of that history was as a target for piracy.

While the natural walls and the city defenses kept its citizens safe, there was no denying that the city had been menaced time and again by pirates, both naval and aerial.

Among the pirates that menaced it, one name stood out: Don Karnage. Known for his ruthlessness and his expert piloting skills, he was a fixture in the tales of Baloo, serving as the folk hero's archenemy in many adventures.

And while Don Karnage might have been dead, his great-grandson had followed in his footsteps, even taking on the same name.

The modern Don Karnage smiled darkly as he looked at the billowing smoke in the distance.

"That's our signal. Rusty Pete's done his job."

With a yell, he ordered his crew into action.

A massive blimp soon rode over the skies of Cape Suzette. The city defenses had been sabotaged, and the blimp's new engine, a recent theft, let it easily fly over the tall rocky walls. The _Iron Vulture II_ loomed large, almost blotting out the sun.

Pilots for the airshow raced toward their planes, only for previously planted pirates to leap out and capture them. The city defenders, picking themselves up from the explosions of their watchposts and anti-air batteries, were soon beset by pirates.

Pirate planes shot out of the blimp's maw and buzzed through the skies. Some flew low to the ground and dropped off more pirates at exactly the places they needed to be to ensure victory.

Don Karnage looked out over the city that had so long vexed his ancestor and laughed.

"And everything falls into place. All those months of gathering the right information to take out the defenses has paid off."

He looked briefly to the sky.

"Are you watching, Grandfather? I've done it. I've fulfilled your dream."

The attack had been swift and brutal. But the pirates were triumphant.

 **oOo**

"I can't believe you brought the Hand to the air show," Louie said to Lena.

"I have to get some use out of this satchel, and I didn't want to leave it in the hotel room," Lena replied, her eyes glowing, "Call it paranoia."

"Technically, we could call it your anxiety," Huey said.

"Can it, Red."

The group peered out from the lobby of the museum, watching the chaos from a distance. They'd heard the explosions and the buzzing of planes, but Donald had prevented them from immediately racing out to see what was going on, having had a bad feeling.

With a sigh, Lena ran her gauntlet-clad hand over her eyes, ceasing her spell of enhanced sight.

"It's serious. Air pirates out the wazzoo. The pilots for the show have been caught, and the city defenses have been sabotaged."

"The billowing smoke was a bad sign," Webby grimaced.

"You get a look at that blimp?" Scrooge said.

"Yeah, seems to be their main thing," Lena said, "There's some more planes in there, and I'll bet my cauldron that it's where the captain is holed up."

"It's Gramps' tales come to life," Eric gasped, "But Cape Suzette's enemies never made it this far."

"Since he's not here, it'll be up to us," Scrooge said, "There has to be something in here that's airworthy. We use that to get up to that blimp and take the captain out of the equation. The pirates should fold without leadership."

"I have an idea about that," Della said, casting her gaze towards a decoration depicting the Sea Duck.

"You read my mind," Launchpad chuckled.

The two rushed off toward the Sea Duck.

"Kids, get that hangar door open," Della called out, "Donald, unbolt this thing from the ground. Lena, think you can conjure something to put in the tank?"

"Get me some water to use as a base for the transfiguration, and sure."

"Bathrooms are this way, I'll help!" Webby chirped.

"You're all mad!" Eric shouted as the McDuck clan sprang into action, "The Sea Duck hasn't flown in years! Even if you got her off the ground, she wouldn't last five minutes in the air, and that's without the threat of the pirates!"

Della and Launchpad ignored him, ducking into the plane's cockpit.

"Controls aren't too different from the Sunchaser," Della muttered as she slipped into the pilot's seat, "Good, good."

"That's odd," Launchpad said, taking the copilot's seat without complaint, "This says the tank's full. It's an analog gauge, so it'd be accurate without starting the engine first…"

"Let's not look a gift horse in the mouth," Della replied, "But we'll let Lena get the water in case it's a mistake. Help me with the pre-flight checks."

By this point, Scrooge and Eric had caught up with them, the curator wheezing slightly.

"You can't do this. This plane won't-"

The engine started without effort, the propellers starting to build up speed.

"That's impossible," Eric whispered.

"No such word in this family," Scrooge said smugly.

The preparations soon finished, and everyone else boarded the plane. Lena and Webby were the last to arrive, lugging a large bucket of water with them.

"Saw that you didn't need gas, but I figured you'd want a back-up plan," Lena said, freezing the top of water to prevent spillage.

"Everyone hang on, this might get bumpy," Della said.

Ancient gears turned and old metal groaned in protest, but the Sea Duck soon leapt into the air as if it was factory new.

Della steered the old bird directly for the largest concentration of pirate planes, buzzing them and sending them scattering from the shock.

"Yeah, that's right!" she crowed, "The sky isn't yours alone, punks!"

Don Karnage, from his position on his blimp's observation deck, saw this. He recognized the plane in an instant, a prominent figure in the tales of his great-grandfather.

Pure rage coursed through him.

"Blow that piece of junk out of the sky!" Don Karnage howled.

The sky pirates rallied, several getting into formation behind the plane and attempting to shoot it down. But Della Duck was one of the greatest pilots of her generation, a cut above the ragged group that Karnage commanded. The Sea Duck danced in the sky, easily outmaneuvering the pirate planes. At one point, she had them so confused that two crashed into each other.

Don Karnage saw all this and snarled, his teeth grinding together.

"Ready my plane. I shall deal with this my—YIPE!"

The Sea Duck had jetted right toward the observation deck, pitching upward mere feet from it. Metal rattled at the shockwave of its passing. Don Karnage had thrown himself to the floor out of sheer instinct, and when he picked himself up, the skies were clear.

"Wait, where did it go?"

 **oOo**

The Sea Duck slowed as it flew overtop the Iron Vulture II. The rear cargo bay opened, and Scrooge, Donald, and the kids jumped out. Lena had summoned Ella and rode the harpy down, telekinetically guiding the others for a safe landing. It wasn't a trick she felt comfortable doing from too high up, as magically gripping several heavy bodies took a lot of concentration, but for the few yards to the top of the blimp, it was okay.

They all landed with a slight bounce, the material beneath their feet giving slightly.

"You sure you don't want me to just blast a hole?" Lena asked.

"Not until we steer this thing over the harbor," Scrooge said, "The pirates are keeping this over the city as a threat against a direct attack. We get this over water, then we can pop this balloon."

"Found a service hatch!" Donald called from a more solid part of the blimp's surface.

"Then let's Do-wey it!" came the excited response from the obvious party.

"Not so fast, boys! I want you to stick to the shadows and find the bridge. We'll keep the pirates busy, your job is to stay out of danger as much as possible and get control of the ship."

"You're letting Webby fight," Huey argued, noting the technicality in his uncle's orders.

"Webby knows karate," Donald deadpanned.

"Krav maga, actually," Webby said lightly, "It's more brutal."

"Of course," Louie grunted.

"Can we get on with this?" Lena asked, "The heights and the wind are making me nervous."

Ella croaked in agreement, one wing behind Lena to shield her.

"Aye, she's right. Best do our jobs quickly," Scrooge said.

Donald opened the hatch and Scrooge went first. A whistle signaled that it was clear, and the rest dove in, including Ella.

"Sure it's a good idea to keep her out in what's probably going to be an enclosed space?" Huey asked Lena, "Might want to swap her out."

Ella growled a bit and tapped her talons on the floor, drawing attention to their size and sharpness.

"Excellent point," Huey replied nervously.

"Save it for the enemy," Lena admonished.

The red-feathered harpy didn't look the slightest bit ashamed.

They came to the end of the maintenance tunnel and out into the open. They saw multiple planes getting ready to launch, and pirates scurrying to and fro.

"Lena, the planes."

"On it, Uncle Scrooge."

In a flash, Buford the minotaur and Firebird the phoenix joined Ella on the attack. Buford crushed metal beneath his hands, and Firebird's flames kept any pirates off him. One managed to pull out a gun, but Ella was upon him in a second.

More pirates noticed the clan and charged, but they were ready. Scrooge ducked under the swing of one and tripped him up with his cane. The pirate lurched forward, right into Donald's fist. Lena cast a lightning bolt to guard the boys while they ducked around pirates in their quest for the bridge. Webby was a force of nature, weaving around sloppy blows and striking with pinpoint precision.

Finally, a particularly large pirate stepped forward. He was built like Bouncer Beagle back home, and he looked ready to tussle. His first charge sent them scattering for cover. He targeted Scrooge first, and while Scrooge got in several good hits with his cane, the pirate just kept coming.

The pirate got in a lucky hit, sending Scrooge flying. Webby dove toward him, crying out in dismay. Donald squawked in anger and went on the attack. He went straight for the face, attacking with great speed. The pirate finally got a good grip on the writhing duck, holding him by the chest with one meaty hand, and was about to deliver a massive punch when—

"REEEET!"

A wild boar the size of a small car came charging in, bowling over the pirate and savaging him with silvery tusks. The pirate managed to throw the boar off, but then found himself floating up into the air.

"Finally," Donald grinned, grabbing a discarded pipe and getting ready, "Okay, Lena, drop him!"

Lena released her telekinetic grip, and Donald swung for the fences.

After the gigantic pirate was laid out, the rest of the pirates surrendered. Lena whistled and the boar trotted over, oinking deeply. She scratched it behind the ear.

"That'll do, Pig. That'll do."

"I still can't believe you couldn't come up with a better name," Webby said.

"It's descriptive at least," Scrooge said, shaking the last cobwebs from his head.

The blimp suddenly lurched.

"And that'll be the boys. Let's get off this lousy lemon."

"I got something special for that," Lena said as she returned all the creatures, "I've been waiting for an excuse…"

 **oOo**

Della had been flying circles around the pirates, disorienting many with skill and swiftness. They got even more disoriented with a _dragon_ burst from the launch bay of the floundering Iron Vulture, roaring loud enough to rattle bones. Its tail tore one plane out of the sky, and the backwash from its wake sent three more hurtling out of control.

From the beast's head, feeling the start of a power high, Lena laughed.

"Give 'em the business, Smaug!"

The dragon obliged, letting loose a gout of flame that set four more planes into a nose dive, their pilots ejecting.

In his own plane, having launched just moments before the McDuck clan had crippled his flagship, Don Karnage snarled. The invasion was doomed, but he could still do what his great grandfather never could.

"Are you watching, Granddad? I'm about to make you proud."

He made a beeline right for the Sea Duck and opened fire. A scattering of bullets race across the plane's fuselage, luckily not hitting anything important.

Della growled in anger as she pulled back on the stick, pulling the old plane into a rapid ascension.

"He's on our tail!" Eric called out, peeking out the window.

"Oh, he must hate us," Launchpad grimaced.

Della swerved the plane to and fro, but couldn't shake their pursuer. Suddenly, her steering wheel snapped off in her hands, the old metal finally giving up.

"Oh, phooey," she said blankly, starting at the metal in her hands.

"I got it!" Launchpad said, flipping a few switches and shifting control of the Sea Duck to his chair. The change of gear was so fast the old bird barely dipped from the momentary lack of input.

"Great, but what now?" Eric said.

"I got an idea," Launchpad said.

And without a second thought, he brought the Sea Duck into a meteoritic dive. Don Karnage was right behind him, firing another spray of bullets.

"Are you crazy?!" Eric shouted, his eyes on the swiftly approaching water below.

"He's got this," Della said.

And she meant it. Since entering the Sea Duck, her and Launchpad had been working like a well-oiled machine. The string of broken pirate planes behind them was a testament to that. She's gotten what her uncle had been telling her earlier, and she felt in her bones her belief.

"He's got this, he's got this," she said over Eric's protests.

"I got this, I got this. Come on, baby, come on!" Launchpad chanted, giving the throttle everything it had.

Don Karnage either didn't realize just how dangerous this game of chicken had gotten, or he didn't care. All he was focused on was the Sea Duck.

Finally, Launchpad pulled back. The Sea Duck swung up, the momentum of its dive translating into the necessary motion to clear the Pelican Dive. Don Karnage, on the other hand, panicked and tried to pull back on his speed. He wasn't able to get the lift necessary to pull out of the dive. He screamed as his plane with the water _hard_.

Victorious laughter exploded from Della and Launchpad as the Sea Duck climbed skyward.

Eric, meanwhile, patted his chest to calm his racing heart. He blinked, and the image before him changed. In Launchpad's place was a large bear with gray fur, a booming laugh echoing through the Sea Duck…

He blinked again, and the visage was gone. But for the rest of his days, he would insist they were not alone in that cockpit…

 **oOo**

Clean-up began swiftly. With the pirates routed, the city guard was able to quickly restore order. The Sea Duck was taken to a private berth to be repaired from its adventure.

"I will admit, I'm surprised it ended so well," Eric said.

"We've all had misjudgments today," Della said.

"I think it's good the old girl got to fly again," Launchpad said, running a hand over the Sea Duck, "Taking her up now and then will be good for her. She's going to age if she sits in the museum all day. She needs to feel young. That flight probably took twenty years off her!"

"After all this, I think I believe you," Eric chuckled.

The group left after that, Della giving the Sea Duck a little pat as she went.

"Thanks for the ride, old girl."

As she turned to go, she felt a chill rush down her spine.

" _Thanks for taking care of my girl."_

Della whipped her head around, but there was no one there. And yet, she'd distinctly heard a voice.

As she started to walk off again, she looked back.

Silhouetted against the open door of the Sea Duck was a large, gray-furred bear. He tipped his pilot's cap to her.

Then she blinked and he was gone.

Della smiled, tossed a light salute toward the plane, and went to join her family.

* * *

 _Funnily enough, I have trouble writing Huey, Dewey, and Louie sometimes. I don't know why. Maybe it's a holdover from the versions I grew up with, who didn't have much in the way of disparate personalities. Despite loving these new versions, I still sometimes default to the old versions in my mind. It's actually the same problem I've been having with Launchpad, swinging between 2017's idiot savant and 1987's quirky hero._

 _I strangely don't have that problem with Webby. Maybe because the old version had no character outside of 'girl', and the new one_ definitely _does._


End file.
